Maybe I was always just full of shit.

Or could it be that as I grew older, the more full of shit I became?

I talk a good game, but I don’t think I’ve tried to live up to the bill.

That’s just it, too; I don’t think I’ve tried. Or maybe I have, and I’m just tired of trying to fill that same old rhetoric of being the main character in my own story.

It could also just be that I’m tired of playing the main character and living like I’m not that important. I’m an afterthought to what I think I could be.

I’ve settled my entire life; what’s a couple more weeks, a couple more months, or just a few years. It’s always been easy just to put off the shit I want.

I was born on MLK day. I was born to serve others, which is what I always told myself. That’s great. But now I’ve forgotten how to run my shit, and this shit has become exhausting.

Do you understand how difficult it is to learn how to create barriers for shit you don’t want to do but once loved doing all the time? Recognizing that I’m not the same mother fucker that likes to do the same shit I did years ago, right in the middle of it.

My shit (life) has always worked out in fucking magical ways. Why should this be any different? Where the fuck would I be if I lived by the mottos I always wanted to live by? Where the fuck did I give up on doing badass shit? When the fuck did I believe in getting tired?

I can’t say this all out loud because then I’m just ungrateful, though. I have a good life because I am fortunate to have a lot more in comparison to others. So, what the fuck am I supposed to do with the ringing in my head that says that this isn’t the end? The thought that tells me I’m just getting started? It’s time to get real uncomfortable in this mother fucker.

The good news? It’ll all be worth it. And I bet it’ll all work out because I’m going to make it work out.