I used to be so brave, fearless, was it the naivety of youth, or truthful acts of courage?
I don’t understand this journey. The older you get, the less you’re supposed to want.
I used to be able to see what I wanted so vividly, it was real to me.
No question. Now my vision is hazy. I can make out a general shape of what I want, but I no longer see it clearly.
I feel myself loosing motivation, growing slow, fat, uninspired.
My passion, my focus gone. My life’s geography, unrecognisable. It feels foreign to me. Soft. Unambitious.
I used to be a dreamer, but also a man of action. Grand dreams. Grand motivations. Grand effort. Now my effort is lacking, the truth is, I no longer believe in myself. What I had, I feel I’ve lost.
To vigorously see the dream, the belief and hunger to chase it with an insane passion.
I have lost my focus, my drive, my courage, my discipline, my joy. Alone, adrift at sea, miles from the shores of courage and determination, too tired to swim back, so I bob in the waters of uncertainty.
I no longer see it, the shores, the dream. I no longer feel it, the belief, the truth.
I am lost, ashamed, at sea.