I want to believe I’m good for something.
I want to believe I’m good for something. That even though I am merely a drop in the ocean, I’m still but a drop that added to the greatness of the waters. That there is purpose and direction within me, that indeed I am fearfully and wonderfully made. And eventually I will get to that point but right now, I feel anything but.
Where we’re at in the world, this life places doing at the core of being. Worth and value is awarded by how much you take on, how much you execute, how much you work. So in the midst of life (as an all-encompassing word) even the want to do things is gone. I’m not quite there yet but it feels like I am on the road to feeling like I have nothing left. Holding myself up and my achievements and self-worth feels like holding a string of deflated balloons in the face of blow-you-off-your-feet wind. Like the futility of Jon Snow charging in on his lonesome in the Battle of the Bastards (pre-help of course). The point is, it feels pointless and it feels scary. And for now, that’s all I have to say.