Coasting

Normally I'd post this elsewhere...

Coasting.

That’s how my life was described to me today. Foot off the gas, very little steering, and just simply coasting down the hills in life and barely making it up the next. Just casually cruising through using complacency as the momentum. When I was told this I really had to stop and think about my life. The person who had told me wasn’t the type to sugar coat things. He has always been brutally and blatantly honest with me. And I’ve always found that a plain and truthful observation of the self usually comes from someone else.

For hours today I worked distracted and unsettled. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Just coasting. It was obvious to everyone but me. It was very evident in my jobs. I just didn’t care. I had no interest in them beyond getting a paycheck. I had no desire or passion to actually DO the job. And thus I just did what was told. No more and no less. I just didn’t care about the work, only the money.

To a lot of people I seem content or complacent. I’m not. When I look deep down into the core of things I am actually very miserable and distraught. Suddenly I feel alone, lonely, and scared. And I guess that’s what happens when someone shines a spotlight on the fallacy of your current life.

Passion, fire, drive. I used to have those things. 12 years ago I was overflowing with passions. I was a force to be reckoned with. And now I can’t remember what those dreams of an 18 year old were. All I know is that I let something slide. I dropped the ball somewhere. Maybe I became horribly discouraged. I don’t know. But what I know is that in 12 years I’ve done fuck all. I sit around like I couldn’t be arsed to do anymore than that. I’m disgustingly apathetic towards my own existence and desires. Jack shit are my accomplishments so far.

On my death bed I want to be able to look back and said that I did what I wanted. I did something. I know that whatever I do won’t be so grand as to cure cancer or end world hunger. But I want to be able to say something other than, “Eh… I coasted. I barely got by. I did some stuff”. I’m afraid that when I pass I’ll leave nothing behind. At my funeral people will say, “He was a nice guy” and that’s it. I’m an artist. I want to show people what I love. I want to make a living doing what I love. But even what I love has started to suffer. My drive and passion have been stifled in everything.

This isn’t a rut. This is something much worse. I’m lost and losing myself even further. I don’t know what to do or where to go. I don’t know where to begin. And now I’m asking any of you who read this to throw a dog a bone. Any and all of you. Please respond with any and all suggestions. Say something.