It is eleven fifteen in the evening. I am sitting in my room, all alone, my eyes drooping and my body telling me to go to sleep, but I don’t want to. There is so much to do. I love sleeping, but then I always feel guilty because I waste away so many good hours when I could have been reading, watching, writing, playing. I hate these stops to life.
I am a nocturnal creature by nature. I think better and feel more at ease with myself in the night. Mornings are the worst. I need a better part of an hour just to get myself out of bed. And so I end up going to work at 9 every day, which means I have to stay until 5 pm, and I wish I were more of a morning person because isn’t it grand when you’re done with work by 4 o’clock?
I suffer mornings most of all
I feel so powerless and small
By 10 o’clock I’m back in bed
Fighting the jury in my head
I wish I could just sleep whenever I felt like it, and not bother with social norms or work rules. But then again, I do not have a particularly strong will, and I would probably end up not doing much work at all. Except I would write, if I could. If I could support myself with writing, I would be happy.
Lately I’ve been feeling very useless. I have a job where I am appreciated and rewarded, and in a broad sense, I am satisfied. But lately there’s been a sort of impatience growing inside me, and I know it’s partly because I’ve been doing the same thing for too long a time, and I need a change. I’m not good at systematic, or monotonous, or stable. I like my life with a little spice.
But increasingly I’ve been having this nagging feeling like it’s not only about the change, it’s about meaning, too. I do stuff for a big company on behalf of another big company. What change am I affecting? Am I providing growth and value to my customers, to my employers? Is it enough? How does the small part I do relate to what happens in the broader sense, in the world? My client does some good things, they also do some bad things. It’s all for profit, though. There doesn’t seem to be any other motivation behind any of it. So how am I contributing to life, to world? Does my work have meaning? Does my life?
I feel like I want to do more. I want to really make a change. I want to be able to look into the mirror and see someone worthy. Someone who makes a difference.
Exegi monumentum aere perennius,
regalique situ pyramidum altius,
quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens
possit diruere aut innumerabilis
annorum series et fuga temporum.
Non omnis moriar, multaque pars mei
vitabit Libitinam. Usque ego postera
crescam laude recens.
I am too weak. Not smart enough. Not determined enough. Too comfortable in my state. I need to crumble before I can rise. But I am too scared, too. To lose what I have. For I have worked hard for it. And I need to destroy before I can build anew.
I need a new direction.