It's sometimes my two words
before or after a statement
about my inner thoughts
that I confuse myself.

"My goal in life
is to be successful;
write the best book ever read
and make some money too, I hope."

The inherent lacking confidence
is evident even within conviction
and I wonder where it came from
what can I owe this honor and shame?

Was it years of youthful torment
because I didn't fit in, or
because I studied or didn't smoke up?
I was just trying to be me, I suppose.

Instead of empowering angst
I got the crawl-into-a-hole-
and-hug-my-legs-until-the-
pain-goes-away-angst.

Eventually the pain does not
and errupts like a volcano
only this "adult" has tantrums
as a child in need of release, I guess.

This tangent has no ending or solution
so cutting it off is better
than mumbling on and on
becoming more frustrated than before, I see.

09/04/2008

Posted on 09/04/2008
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