Where am I going?

I sometimes feel like my wellspring of inspiration runs dry. I try so hard to create more and more and it seems like it is becoming a futile effort. I don't feel the passion that I once did when I write. No, I take that back, I don't feel the release, the total removal from both self and reality. I feel slightly trapped within the limitations of my mind and body. I can still express myself, but it is as if there is no relief in that expression. I am not letting go of anything. I am not casting off myself in order to enter the idea of being someone else.

I don't know where I'm going any more. I don't know what skills I truly have, or what knowledge I truly possess. I enjoy so many things. I have minimal skill in so many different areas of expression, but yet, I often wonder if I have any true talent. I wonder if I have what it takes to do the things that I want in life. Sometimes I don't even know what it is I want in life. I just want to live. I don't want to have to worry about things like food, shelter, money, and such. I just want to do the things that I love. I want to find a way to just go out into the world and be for myself, not for anyone else, or even for the almighty dollar. What true happiness can little slips of green paper and small bits of coinage truly bring to me? I fail to comprehend how these things can have any meaning, other than what we choose to assign to them. Yet they seem to mean so much in our society. They seem to be the object for which we all whore ourselves, ourlives, our loves, and our talents, in order to achieve something more.

Maybe some day I will write a great novel. Maybe some day I will be a journalist and change the world through real reporting, through quality writing and making people aware of the facts. Then again, I could fail. I could not achieve anything with writing. I could end up doing nothing more than thinking back on broken dreams and ideals. Maybe I will end up shattered and wondering what could have been if I had only done one thing or another differently. Maybe I will sacrifice myself to my own self-doubt, and allow my fears to rule me.

I don't believe so though. I can take that dive over the edge, I can spread my arms and have faith that they will be wings. I can believe that I will fly, if I only take that first step. It's just a matter of taking the first step, and then following through, and continuing down the chosen path. I will make my choices, and not look back. I will not look back. I refuse to give in to these fears. I have got to perservere. Maybe some day, if I work hard enough, I will make it.