of serious self doubt and identity crises i have reached the following conclusion: i can't be anything else than a poet, a writer, an artist. i wish i could but i can't. sometimes i wish i could be something else. it would be so nice to have no calling. just float through life without thinking anything but the newest car models and next episode of guiding light. would be nice to work without ever thinking about the rights of the fellow co workers, collapse in front of the telly with a big juicy steak and never think of animal rights. to eat processed food and handy junk food and spend the early mornings driving next to other non thinkers in machines instead of in nature. it would be nice to hand over all my willpower and judgment to politicians and to put my health into the hands of doctors. it would be nice to never ever think of anything but myself and how i can possibly possess more. but no i can't, no matter how much i would like to turn my brain off and forget everything i have learned. that is the curse of knowing, you can't take it back. i can't reform, i am possessed by the virus of knowing. i can never turn it off.
i am drowning in volunteer work, i won't get paid for it, i won't get any glory for it or even good will. but i have to do it. because i know that if i don't do it, i can't be sure that anyone else does it. i am possessed with the knowledge that i as an individual has the power to change the world. but the big question is how can i do it without killing myself in the process.
the good news are i am writing poetry again
and in the process i feel alive again