Crowded Living Rooms

Life without any sort of reflection can become lacking in the possible rewards of wisdom. Why do we do what we do?

As I reassert my efforts into this new year, I try to stay focused and aware of the pitfalls that have plagued my past. A constant barrage of self-doubt and apathy towards presented situations caused me to under-perform during a good portion of my life. I became the weekend warrior, without a care for striving for the best-version-of-myself.

The minimum was just fine for me and I didn't look to create any static about it. I had the comfy office job and the roof over my head and the car payments to satisfy any average materialistic notion of what constitutes happiness. But I soon became weary of it all--realizing that any motivation I had for getting out of bed every morning was beginning to fade. I needed to prioritize my values and look into myself to discover what made me my authentic self.

In my heart of hearts, I am a writer, or better yet, I am a storyteller. All my life I had a vivid imagination that often times would run away from me--almost to the point where others would classify me as strange. I knew that my role as an adult existed somewhere between the creative arts and the fact that I isolated that part of myself from my everyday practice began to deteriorate me to my very core. I knew I needed to give myself a shot, or die trying.

It is with that goal in mind that I made the tough and a bit reckless decision to leave my job to pursue a path that produces far more rejection stories than successful ones. The decision to leave a nest of security for a creative project that was underdeveloped and poorly managed would be my first test of real life rejection and failure. In no less than a month of taking a gamble, I was already a loser in the biggest way possible.

There is something to be said when one can find strength when faced with trial and adversity. After my failed business startup experience, I sank into the deepest pits of self-doubt and depression. By this point I had never experienced true hardship in my own life. I do not wish to project this perception of myself that says that I survived real life tragedy -- there are people out there that are surviving much worse -- but I cannot help but feel a sense of growth after hitting my own sort of rock bottom. My life truly changed once I understood that in order to rebuild the strongest of foundations, you must meet the dirt, mud, and earth head on.

Perhaps when enough time and perspective has passed -- and I have grown a bit wiser from my past mistakes -- I will better articulate my lessons, in the hopes that I can share for the benefit of others.

Until then, I'm still searching.

Stay vigilant, my friends. It will all make sense in time.

Crowded Living Rooms

Haven't slept much, 
feeling how much a warm bed is a luxury. 

Nights in crowded living rooms. 

Mornings in empty cafes. 

The journey for change is 
an incredibly lonely process. 

Too much time to think about all 
the wrong turns. 

Like living in a glass bubble, 
unable to touch anything that resembles
a former life. 


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