Monday, August 16, 2010


I'm not happy anymore. And I don't know why.

I have a wonderful family. I'm surrounded by the best friends I've ever had in my life. I have eliminated all my toxic relationships. I'm sitting in a warm home. I earn enough money to buy the things I need for now. My diabetes is under control. My ulcer has healed. For the first time in over a year - I have a wound on the sole of my foot that doesn't seep. I have new shoes that are paid for and comfortably encase my feet. I've written the testament of my life. I've fulfilled the prophecy of my gift. I've attained my potential as a writer. My physical, spiritual, emotional, sexual, and professional needs are met.

And I'm not happy.

I sat beside my best friend and sipped beers at a bar and I couldn't justify my lack of motivation. My verbosity left me with a rapidity that rivaled the abandonment of virginity in the backseat of a prom limousine. I had no words.