Nothingness.

I punch the sky sometimes. Because it can't punch me back. And I spit on the ground in haste. Because it can't retaliate. I am so used to finding ways to hurt and damage things or relationships that are incapable of hurting me back.

I don't know how to be at peace. I don't know how to let life happen to me. I'm so busy making things happen. I'm so busy forcing the results. I'm so busy analyzing and planning and making and creating. I never just let myself enjoy being a creation. I never embrace the reality that I was designed to do something spectacular. I'm too busy taking my aggression out on the sky and the ground...too busy damaging things. I never seem to find the time to build anything.

I'm in love with possibilities. When I see them coming, I lose all composure and all desire to exhibit my years of etiquette refinement. I stop breathing and start drooling. I indulge myself in the pursuit of possibilities. I start lusting after them, stalking them, chasing them, grabbing them, and then carelessly fumbling...dropping them and watching them scatter like broken glass on a tile floor.

I never let life place the possibilities that are intended for me in my hands. I never wait. I always hunt. I realize now that good opportunities are a lot easier to hold on to when you're prepared to embrace them. And I rarely am. I get so excited when I smell or sense a possibility nearing that I never shape my hands to hold on and own anything. My hands sweat with anticipation when I prepare for a hunt. So when I chase something, I'm never equipped to protect it. My slippery, greedy hands cannot contain such beautiful possibilities.

I punch the sky because I'm lost in this world and when I look up, in search of guidance, all I see are clouds. I don't see a map or a clue. And when I look at the ground and watch it expand in to the distance, I don't see a path cleared for me. I don't know where to go from here. I just know that I'm tired of running...with no destination.

All I feel...when I let myself feel...is nothingness. Everything I've ever hunted and called my prey has slipped through my fingers. I have nothing to show for years of pursuit and careless disregard for the lives and love that I've damaged. I'm tired of chasing. I'm tired of being so desperate to have and to be more.

I just want to replace this nothingness with something or anything...worth having and keeping.