Reversal

Oof, I got it wrong. Be willful. Be strong and defiant and pigheaded, even when you're in doubt. Stand tall and act with swift certainty. Plow through and evaluate the damages later, or else you'll be the slippery, wet noodle that writhes in discontentment.

I am a discontented noodle.

Few men can tap this floppy, wriggly inner demon of mine; two of them managed to in one day. One with the slightest action, the other with dubious inaction. How quickly I topple and fall from my mountain of self-esteem--just this weekend I received compliments ranging from, "You seem so independent," to, "I find you fascinating." But I'm not looking for compliments, I'm looking for closure and clarification. Spell it out for me. Draw me a timeline. Carve it into my eyeballs.

I'm not going to lie; I feel pretty lost. I have goals, but I've purposely distanced myself from them because I want time and space to feel things out before I set off down a road I might not want to be taking five years from now. I can't tell if that's helpful or harmful. Am I growing or stagnating? What does that even look like? The smoking and drinking and hopeless romances aren't boring by any means, but I feel like I'm fragmenting into various habits without anything to really bundle them together. Like the sudden evolution of my name amongst coworkers and friends--where once "Nicholas" was the standard, "Nickelbag", "Nick Arrojo", and poor English-as-a-second-language-Rico's unsettling and unnecessary addition of five randomly chosen syllables to the end of "Nicholas" have sprouted. It's as if they don't have a grip on who I am, either.

Or maybe I'm just loopy because I woke up at 4AM for absolutely no reason this morning.