paralyzed 🌧️

i feel paralyzed.

that sickening feeling

of wanting to do so much

you don’t know where to start.

i want to be the writer

and the painter,

the solo traveler

who disappears into coffee shops.

the adventurer

always chasing the novel,

and the homebody

who crochets her own clothes.

the skateboarder, the motorcyclist

painting murals across the city.

the musician with a guitar,

bleeding into her own lyrics.

the athlete with a flawless record.

the ceo.

the director of a non-profit.

the runner throwing down sub-6-minute miles

and racing marathons just for the joy of flight.

the independent trader

who conquers the market in an hour a day.

the baker crafting extravagant cakes,

the girl who speaks five different languages.

and more.

but it’s so intimidating to start.

where do you begin?

what do you begin?

it feels like there aren’t enough hours in a lifetime,

let alone a single day,

for everything i want to hold.

and so, i am stuck.

i map out the plan.

i research the projects.

everything burns bright for the first forty-eight hours.

and then the crash hits,

i am running out of time.

i can’t do everything at once,

so i choose to do nothing at all.

and now all those plans,

all those brilliant, breathing dreams,

sit buried in my notes app.

grave markers of a life

i haven’t figured out how to live.