letting it go and stepping into nothing.

At home now, with my belongings strewn about my childhood bedroom. My head is filled with a mess of emotions, and I think that I wish the way I missed him was tangible so I could feel it in some real way and understand what it means and if it means anything at all. I have an interview looming over me, and my heart is beating slowly and deliberately.

I feel my words add up to nothing if I don't take some action.

I want every day to be like the night I got my tattoo. I want to make things happen, propel my life in new directions, understand why I keep being pulled backwards. I am tired of talking about all of my plans. Maybe I should talk about how I'm scared to make any of them real. Maybe I should acknowledge that I see my own capabilities and they scare me. All I really want is to lie in bed and think, imagine all of what I could be without ever having to realize these possibilities.

The exhaustion has become a bit too much. I am going to keep moving, but I worry that I will fall soon, very soon.