Sometimes I amaze myself.  And I wish I meant that in a more positive way, but it’s not true.  It’s funny how you tell yourself you’re going to do something, and you continue to tell yourself this very thing for days, weeks, months, and in some pitiable cases, even years.  And all the while, that “thing” you were supposed to do just keeps getting put off and strung along.

Until you actually do it.  Until you get so sick of yourself, sequestered in a small bubble with tiny pores, that you get mad–at yourself and the project you dreamed of but never achieved.  That emotion translates into energy; pure, raw energy safe and ripe for the using, unlike Redbull, which creeps me out.  And you can finally do whatever it is that you said you would.

Dreams are so often achievable, and yet we rarely do what we say.  Why am I so lazy about nearly every aspect of my life I can think about?  What’s so sad is that there’s nothing stopping us but ourselves: we have more than the resources and talents and knowledge required, so why do we falter?

Why does our energy drain away, leaving us with the dismal reality of our unrealized, gray dreams?

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