What was everything to me...

I guess we all need goals to strive for; something to inspire us to keep going to grasp the star that seems just beyond our reach.

For the past month or so I’ve been lying flat on my back, resting on the broken leaves, and soaking in whatever spoils I could obtain from my withered life.

Yet the battered foliage has bore some fruit of desire.

As I cast my eyes around me, I can see the medals of surviving such an ordeal. The new laptop whirs in front of me, beckoning me to resume work on the novel. A myriad of new suits hang on my wall hook, swaying lightly in the breeze of the heater, just wanting to be worn – hoping to make my appearance glossier.

The new car keys sit on the bench, desperate for another drive to inspire.

At the bottom of my laptop screen in the Task Manager, I can see the Excel Spreadsheet that has mapped out the rest of my life financially, even taking into consideration factors simply beyond those who cannot perceive the future.

Photos from my sojourn in June remind me of events afore, and that eerie time of limbo. However, I walked out of that period inspired to surmount many hills and jump gleefully atop the many summits.

But at the moment, I rest.

I stare up at the sky, and I can only see a few stars, but none are within reach at this point in time. They are far too distant to even bother trying to extend my arms.

Long time objects of desire now adorn my walls, a clear reminder of my new path. There are no more forks in the road. There are no more branches in the path. No more choices. No more grasping. Not for now.

Even from the mixed metaphors in this post, I can see the malaise seeping in. But I have chosen the path with less underbrush, and I must tread the dust.

One step at a time.

Is this malaise? Is this boredom? Or am I simply tired… tired of climbing hills?

Muse’s song “Dead Star” blares out of the speakers in my face, which seems relatively apt at this point in time. Where is the muse in my life? Why are all my stars seemingly dead?

The lyrics assault my ears: “You used to be everything to me, and now you’re tired of fighting…”

But in this case “you” isn’t a person… it’s my goals.