Have you ever felt like your inability to make decisions ruin just about everything good for you? How often do you think that God has been looking out for you to the point where he must be kind of sick of your shit?

How many chances does a fella like myself really get in this chapter of my life? How long is the chapter anyway?

I don’t know exactly how I’m supposed to quit being so indecisive, but it’s hard. How often have I played the “it’s all good” card that I don’t know what to believe is really all good? When’s the last time I remembered to be happy in the actual moment versus worrying about the next thing or tomorrow?

Whoever invented time must really feel like shit. Time is practically the only thing keeping us believing that we’re dying every single minute versus realizing that we’re really just living until one day we’re not. You know that one cheesy thing that says if you were to die in six months, you’d end up doing the thing you love for those next six months because your will to want to live is just so much bigger when you realize you’re close to the end or potentially the end.

Maybe life would be a lot different if I knew I was going to die tomorrow. I guess I have to figure out how to make sure I do one thing every day that would make it all worth it.

What’s next, then? I’m not sure. I guess that’s the beauty in it too. Ahhh, why must we always make life so complicated, and when did it start? When did that get implanted in my big ass head?