NOTHING GETS CROSSED OUT

If I had a nickel for every time I started a post called "Nothing Gets Crossed Out" and did not complete it, I'd be a rich man. This post is like MacBeth... It's cursed.

Every time I title a post "Nothing Gets Crossed Out", I'm upset with myself over my lack of initiative, passion, drive, desire, and attitude. As the song goes, "It's too hard to focus through all this doubt,/I keep making these to-do lists but nothing gets crossed out".

It's one of my favorite songs, but it's definitely my favorite bad mood song that wasn't written by Morrissey.

Without further adieu, here's a post about my ambitions and my failure to even attempt to achieve them. There have been many posts regarding this subject before. I hate to think that there will be more like it in the future, but I'd be crazy to say that I honestly think I won't post something like this again.

I told a friend that there have been many points in my life during which I couldn't remember the last time I felt happy but that lately I can't remember the last time I felt depressed, and that was true.

Today, however, I became majorly disappointed in myself over something minor. Once I become disappointed-even if over something minor-I invariably recall everything I've ever done to disappoint myself or (presumably) my parents. (I can't recall a time that my parents have claimed to be disappointed in me, and I doubt that they have not been disappointed by at least something I've said or done.) This almost invariably results in a blog post. Whether I complete it or not is another matter.

When I reflect on my short life, I see some great things. I see a happy childhood. I see great parents who raised me right. I see good friends whom I love (I'm glad to still be friends with all of the best [using 'best' to describe quality] friends I've had in my life, save one).

But already, after just twenty-three years, I see a lot of wasted potential.

This fact is rather distressing.

Until nine years ago, girls were interested in me. Until eight years ago, I was athletic and in shape. Until six years ago, I was intelligent.

Since then, I have struggled with anxiety, depression, and substance abuse (this is the first time I've come to grips with this fact). My anxiety and depression are most likely largely imagined. The substance abuse was an attempt at abating self-inflected symptoms of psychological disorders.

The point is: I've squandered many opportunities.

I could have gotten good grades in college. I could have maintained my health. I could have been involved in a meaningful relationship.

But nothing gets crossed out.

I make plans, I write lists, I threaten myself.

Without fail, the plans, lists, and threats are quickly forgotten.

I have some very simple goals in my life: 1.) have a career, 2.) exercise and eat healthy foods, 3.) read novels frequently, 4.) learn to play an instrument, 5.) become good at chess.

I don't know what it's going to take to turn my desire into resolve. It's not like I'm asking myself to cure cancer. Until I take action, my goals will go unaccomplished. All of my desires are so simple. I enjoy (or presume I will enjoy) nearly all of them...

It's like I want myself to be unhappy.

This post feels incomplete, but it will have to do for now.

Darren.