Maybe I Should Just Shut Up

It's one of those days today. The kind of day that creeps up behind you like a sheep farmer in the night, leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth and a sore spot on your ass.
I feel like I'm slowly but surely losing my grip on the shit around me. I'm not sure what to do to fix it. Maybe it's just the time of year. You know, the time of the year when things are supposed to be started fresh. Reevaluated. Re-decisioned. Re-nothing! What gets me the most, well, not the most, but a hell of a lot more than it should, is that there isn't any snow. There's no snow! It's the middle of January! For the love of God! My internal and external clocks are all screwed to shit because, I'm almost positive, there is no freaking snow.
Maybe it has nothing to do with the snow, or lack thereof, but I'm pretty sure it does.
Maybe it has more to do with the fact that I haven't been able to think of much more then things I shouldn't be thinking about. Things I know better than to think about. Yet, there they are, consuming my entire thought process, driving me to close to insanity. The anxiety builds to a feverish pitch and all I can do is curl into my knees and wait for the wave to pass over me like a dark cloud.
That bitch.
I want a change. I want it so badly it stings like venom in my throat. Where's the snake then? For that matter, where's my damn antidote? Do I really believe there is one? Would I deserve it if there was? Instead of complaining on deaf ears, why am I not pushing forward with something that is something other than self-destructive? Then again, if I knew the answers to these never ending questions, I'd be the one raking in the money.
I was asked yesterday what it was I wanted to do. You know what my reply was: I can't do what I want to do. Can you believe that?! I can't do what I want to do. That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, let alone let spew from my lips! What do I want to do?
Teach? Maybe.
Write? Maybe.
Train, teach and write? Maybe.
I feel I am getting too old to do those things. My creativity is pulsing out of my body on a daily basis, to a bottomless gutter. It's not going to any place that will help me. And the buds that are blossoming from guts are no prize roses. They're more like crab grass.
Maybe I just want to do nothing at all and get paid for it. Hell, that's what we all want. I don't want that. I want to do something that makes a difference. I need to do something that makes a difference. That's what I want to do. Make a difference. Only if I had thought of this, oh I don't know, 20 years ago.
It matters not greatly.
My hands smell like the onions that were on my sandwich. I can't get it off. No matter how many times I scrub with the soap or lather my hands with hand sanitizer, the onions are still there. Long live the onion!! It must be proud of it's stench. Well, maybe. It's an onion, so really, I don't think it's relevant what it thinks, if anything.
Maybe I need a vacation. Maybe.
Maybe I just need something that I can be satisfied with for more than a week. Like my goju. Although I'm not sure I want something in my life that means that much to me...other than my family and stuff. I really have no idea what I want. That's the problem. Always has been. The complications now are that I am getting too old to be having this problem. Balls.
Maybe I should just shut up.
I can't keep doing this. I have to kill off this nagging before I let it take over. I will not go back.
That bitch. I will not go back.


My hands are tied behind my back
The knot made tighter by my own will
The ledge is closer than it appears
So back the fuck up