The definition of procrastination is the epitome of how I treat my brilliant plans and creativity. I truly believe I smother myself, constricting everything I really am until there is nothing except a minuscule glimmer of what I should be. I spend so much time thinking that I am rarely doing. My mind is some mirrored labyrinth constantly contorting and reversing while expanding infinitely not unlike the universe my physical body is trapped inside. I am intensely confused by my personality. It would appear who I really am folds in upon itself, hiding and shying away from everything great it could accomplish. In its place stands someone everyone but myself knows and loves. Could I be one of those great minds that is meant to do nothing but ponder only to have scraps of paper saturated in brilliance discovered upon her tragic death? I feel pretentious.
I think I am going to make a list of everything I have never completed or started that I have always thought of doing. Then perhaps if I actually bring said list to a fruition I shall complete them individually in no particular order.
No comments:
Post a Comment