ignoring advice

The truth doesn’t matter,
just what does it feel like?
It feels like your hearing
is two steps removed.
The truth doesn’t matter,
just what does it feel like?
It feels like taking outside advice in matters of internal decisions
would be the same as listening to static and dancing to its tune.

The truth doesn’t matter,
what matters is how it feels,
and an outside perspective is too acid-etch obscured
with too many broad assumptions and too lacking past regrets.
The truth doesn’t matter,
what matters is how it feels,
and to explain that would be to malconstruct a memory
where it exists in perfectly abstract formlessness.

The truth doesn’t matter
in its weighted aggregate,
but it feels exactly as it should
when I know it to be true.
The truth doesn’t matter
in its weighted aggregate:
it lacks the beauty of a well-crafted fiction
written by a single author,
using eigenwords without abuse.

The truth lacks
the the twisted interpretations
of a soul-searched history;
it lacks the rewritten meanings
of a thousand words
previously defined insufficiently;
it lacks the trust that I have in myself
to know when to say ‘when’
when it starts to feel wrong.

The truth doesn’t matter,
just what does it feel like?
It feels like I should step outside to start my life:
like I should step into the sun.
The truth doesn’t matter,
just what does it feel like?
It feels like I should throw away my interpreted mistakes:
like there’s no point any longer to consider them.
The truth doesn’t matter,
just what does it feel like?
It feels like life could be futile, but it could also be fun:

I considered your voice
I hummed my own tune
I picked up my scissors to run

planning

The plan is to live in Chicago, then Denver, then San Francisco, and then Seattle, as a way to be both young professional and nomad through the remainder of my 20s. The plan is to move back to Philadelphia to reduce the stress of starting over in another new city. The plan is to stay at my current job and save as much money as possible so I have the freedom to start over someplace new sometime soon without having to find another job in my current field. The plan is to apply to jobs in my current field to give me a reason to move to a new place. The plan is to decorate my apartment so it feels like a home and not a temporary storage space. The plan is to get a part-time job that pays just enough to cover bills and gives me experiences to write about. The plan is to pay off my student loans as quickly as possible so that I can reasonably be unemployed and focus on writing or photography or starting a business or some other thing I feel too weighed down to take seriously as this point in my life. The plan is to quit drinking because drinking costs too much money and is not entertaining enough. The plan is to stay single and make friends and have fun with those friends. The plan is to go out and meet someone I can eventually marry and do the whole parenthood thing with. The plan is to take life day by day and see which changes come because changes will come, but they will not come all at once. The plan is made up of contradictions. The plan is a source of anxiety. The plan depends on only me.  

quarter-life crisis: the burden of choosing your own adventure

Bottoming out toppling over adulthood breeds boredom where choices are too many. Inactive and unproductive when left to my own devices.  Vices filling gaps left by once-thrived-upon structure.  If i don’t have deadlines i stand still if i don’t have deadlines i don’t do if I don’t have deadlines I set no goals.  I neither reap nor do I sow.  I just come and I go with two punches of one clock.  I watch seconds turn to minutes and those minutes add to hours eight times over and I am waiting waiting waiting for something to feel important. I am waiting waiting waiting for some sense of urgency. Open-ended questions require curiosity – but for me (lacking that), they inspire lagging lethargy. I would not fight for freedom, if it was my time to fight – but I might fight for responsibility and a reduction of my rights.  I feel plagued by choices in the land of possibility. I feel plagued to find happiness and success monetarily. Maybe I should just give up, go back to college, and get another degree.