The problem with life is that there aren't any deadlines. At least, not any deadlines that we're aware of.
We feel infinite. And since we feel so infinite, we have dance parties and play video games and make posters and watch 80s fantasy movies and lay in bed trying to fall asleep instead of chasing our dreams.
I have to get back to my inspired and motivated place again. I just keep floating in this little bubble, hoping that it will carry me over the difficult part, and just drop me at the end, leaving me safely at the place that I hope to be one day. I really need to just pop that bubble and land on my ass. I've always been scared of that sort of thing--I honestly can't even ride a bike because I'm so scared of falling--but that's just what you have to do. You'll never learn or go very far if you don't let yourself try.
Sometimes I wonder if pills would help me, if my problem is really some sort of imbalance that can be fixed, or if it's just a part of who I am; not so much a problem as a weird, annoying quirk.
I need some goal to work towards. I've heard that it's better to set smaller goals for yourself because you gain confidence every time you accomplish one, and before you know it, you're achieving your life's dreams. So that's what I'll do. One goal at a time. My goal this week is to finish something else, either this new weird short story I started last week, or the essay that I started in March but never finished. I will finish something. And then I will send it away. Push my baby down the river on a bed of reeds.