Sometimes… in the scant few moments that I spend intoxicated anymore, I sit, listening to music, and I reflect upon my life.

I dare to think that my pitiful body is filled with potential. I daydream of careers as a music or movie critic; as an artist, whatever the type; as a programmer, brilliant in my simplicity; as a father, surprising in my rise to responsibility.

I don’t believe that such aspiration is unique to me. Everyone believes that something greater lies within them. Some untapped resource, lying in wait for some motivating circumstance.

I just don’t believe my circumstance has been defined yet. So many requirements and deficiencies must be defined before such a genesis can occur.

None of my interests venture beyond fan status… not nearly enthusiastic enough to justify fanatiscism.

I look at my life between 20 and 25… I see my interests increasing only incrimentally… I see my relevance stagnating. If I were gone tomorrow… would I have some great impact? Would things march on, as normal? I’m an incidental being… The vast majority of my life is inconsequential. And it’s my own doing. I fear so much… I think so much… It closes many doors. If I were more impulsive, things would be different.

Would things be different if I were more proactive? If I exersized, for example? I don’t think my self image would improve. I would always have something to lament. I might fundamentally change my personality, since a fair amount of my insecurity stems from my self-image… but the root cause would remain the same.

If I thought less.. If I simply reacted and processed things as they came, rather than anticipating every turn of events… Would I be less alone? Would I still mak up excuses to avoid new people? Would I still be the scapegoat, the shoulder to cry on, the sexless being that only exists for reassurance and repair?

Listen to me. I despise everything about myself, and I am intimately familiar with every aspect of JR Smith. I do no deserve what you give me.

No sleep for me tonight…