The Hate Yourself Change

It's so much more apparent that while outwardly there have been many changes in how I appear to be, inwardly what have I improved?

The very fiber of my being is of someone who is idealistic, but halfhearted. Someone who is critical, but not constructive.

These twenty-two years haven't been much; I move like a snail, there's thousands more miles to cover. I'm just breaching the starting line.

Here I am. Where have I been? Spiritual and physical movement is stagnant. I have opposable thumbs but I am not evolved.

In a lot of ways I'm a cheated heart. I promised myself so much more in life, and even though I'm precipice, the crook, the trim of what could be something whimsical or even grand in nature I'm impeded.

What could stop someone who stares down the darkness of his fears and the fierceness of adventure? The natural functions of the world!

I could percolate through these things; maybe aspire to surpass my self-imposed boundaries or the boundaries of the world. But does every coward dream of being a hero? Can the internally weak manifest anything besides mock strength outwardly?

I'm a snail, this is the starting line, I am still moving, but there's no way I can win and I can't accept it, but I feel ephemeral happiness in the frivolity of trying, and I feel helpless in the grandeur nature of an enterprise far reaching and unattainable.