And I'll Throw It All Away

    I have sat on my couch alone with only the company of my dog in utter silence. For those of you that know me well, you can appreciate how far of a leap I've made in appreciating the silence.... A good friend and mentor of mine used the phrase "he appreciates the silence" and it stuck with me. I think it made such a lasting impression because it forced me to realize how much I hated the silence; I hated being forced to listen to what was happening on the inside. I was terrified of myself and at times... I still am.
    Anyway, back to the point. Sitting in my apartment listening to the distant sounds of my refrigerator, I remembered a wonderful poem. The Dash Poem by the lovely Linda Ellis. I've seen it a lot lately floating around the internet in it's infinite travel to new minds. I was indirectly introduced to this poem a few years ago by a man I am hopelessly in love with. He has a tattoo of the last verse.
    The meaning of the poem is obvious and everyone can easily relate. The impact this poem had on my heart this particular evening is hard to explain. If I step back... way back... everything looks good. I have a roof over my head, food in my stomach and shoes on my feet; luxuries that a growing number of people are losing or never had. I hold a college degree and am working on another. I have friends and family, no matter how crazy and intolerable I may find them at times; all time for a select few. I am healthy.
    Take a few steps closer and all the small details come into focus. I desperately try to hide these details from others in an attempt to maintain a sense of mystery and appear strong; I am realizing I even try to hide them from myself at times. These details, each as an individual, are meaningless bumps in the road I like to step on and crush as I conquer them. Together... well, they are an army of ferocious feral cats trapping me in a corner and I am the idiot who filled my hands with the tastiest cat food in town.
    The specifics of the situation aren't necessary nor the point of this post. The part they play however is monumental. I am trapped in my own life by horrors that arose because of decisions I made; some rash and uneducated, others seemingly harmless and most my only option. The past few weeks have regrettably been filled with inevitable break downs and many, many headaches brought about by endless crying.
    So tonight, I sit thinking about The Dash Poem and how I once believed in it so religiously that I mocked those who sat around waiting for life instead of chasing it. Yet I find myself sitting on the couch... waiting for life. I have become what I once mocked and could almost describe as a group I felt pity for.
    What I am about to describe are feelings I have just released into the wild environment that is my forebrain  They have not been properly processed and organized, but have a good foundation.
    I am tired of sitting around and waiting for things to balance out. I need to take things into my own living and fully capable hands. I have dreams and aspirations. Forget everything I thought before, I need to get out there and chase these beasts down. I almost wish I was my teenage self again if only because I seemed to have a fearless desire to do everything my heart desired. I was so selfless and passionate. I didn't care about the things I do now and I certainly didn't envision myself in the shoes I wear. My "dash" could end at any time and what do I have to show for it? Stress, gray hairs at 22, and a negative outlook on life that is most commonly described in crappy, depressing nursing home. WAKE THE HELL UP, BRITTANY!!! What are you doing?

Thanks for caring enough to read this crap. Maybe one day it will become useful to me. Maybe one day I'll save lives and make a difference in this world. Until then...