Slice Life

I use to have so much going for me. And now I wake up and try to figure out how much longer I can stay in bed without having to skip brushing my teeth on the way out the door. I think I peaked when I was 20. I've been cut down. Now it's a slow decline into routines and monotonous errand running. When I first came back to Illinois I thought I would lay in the corner, lick my wounds, and then come back fighting. With new inspiration, new goals, new talents and a book deal. But in reality, my life is so common. So pedestrian. The one year anniversary of the attack quickly approaches, and it makes me so uncomfortable. I'm past the point of being 'o so thankful' for being spared of any bodily harm, these days I keep playing out scenarios of what would of happened had I just grabbed a knife and gone out there. The me of today would have started slicing and fighting. But, obviously, the me of then didn't do anything but sit on my bed and cower. Maybe that's why I'm so angry and muted these days. My frustrations may have turned inward, on myself. I didn't really want to fight for my life? Not my actual blood-flowing-through-veins life, but the built-this-from-the-ground-up life. If you don't have a life worth fighting for, are you living? I think that's from a James Bond movie. Or SuckerPunch. Or maybe it's a line from Alias. Either way. I chose not to fight for my life, and now, while living the results of said decision, I don't have much of a life at all. How do I fix this? Where do I pick up a gallon of passion, a dozen inspirations and a box of future? What aisle is that on? Doesn't Meijer sell everything? Maybe I'm past grocery aisles and Quik'E'Marts, maybe I need a trip to Oz. I would like my turn to stand in front of the great wizard, even knowing it's all a fake. At least it would be an adventure, something a little more exciting then my weekly charade. I'd choose fending off flying monkeys instead of avoiding errands.



"Mishaps are like knives, that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the blade or the handle." -James Russell Lowell