I don't know what I am doing. I don't have a goal. I don't have a destination. I don't have a path. I am just here.
This is always what I wanted. Just to be. Not to strive for anything. Not to be stuck reaching for a goal I don't need to reach. Just to be. Man. That was the goal. Just to be, man.
Now I feel useless. Floundering. Stuck. Just being isn't what I thought it would be.
There's still work. And bills. And obligations. And feelings. And everything it means to be a person today. It's all still here. It's not going away. It is part of just being. But, it intrudes on the being part. On the idea of being.
Encroaches on being like a cat smelling a new box. Haltingly, with curiosity, until it knows no fear and then it sits. Right in the middle of being, Life sits. And you have to find a way to make it work.