You may as well jump into my mind for a bit. This is me, thinking.

Most of my time in this life is pushed through a state of inactive action, I have come to realize. That is to say, my brain is always running at near one-hundred percent but my actions don’t track nearly to that magnitude. I realize that most everything in my life exists in my brain. I no longer do as much… stuff… because in my categories of stuff to do there is routine (which is repeated over and over on schedule, meaninglessly) and unique activity—and this latter type of activity I rarely repeat. And because I rarely repeat these activities, I’ve grown to the point where I’ve done more than I can come up with to do.

Yet I have dreams, and those dreams are—relative to where I am in my life right now mentally and financially—grandiose. I still dream them though. I’m not too old or too young, at least I don’t feel either aside from passing jokes on the matter I share with others to get out of small talk.

If you know me, you’ve already established with me that I barely experience happiness. If you don’t know me, well, now that sentence has filled you in. This is not exactly a horrible condition, as it does not work according to any laws of relativity where I, therefore, experience despair in most of my hours. Rather, I am consumed by thought. That does not make me unhappy… always.

I wonder then during times of silence—times which are common as I work to structure my life thusly—is this… good? I’d most certainly rather be an overly thoughtful person than the opposite; I see too much of that to want to be a part of that world. People, thoughtless people. I don’t hate them, mind you—I just don’t want to be them or with them. I’m no smarter than them on average, I know that. I used to think I was, but I am no longer a twenty-four year old. And that’s… fine.

I have rare moments of reflection that are not hindered by my obsessions, nor my swings into a poor mood. During these times of reflection, I find myself reflecting on the fact that I am self-reflective and what that means. Am I trapped in my thoughts? Is that my defining characteristic, besides my obsessive behavior?

I want to build great things. I have built great things. Many have crumbled, but I’ve done it. Many are old and there only for the reminiscence. What am I waiting for? That perfect moment where my creative mind, my active mind, and my planning mind come together and… do, together. Oh, and money.

Money is such an excuse though. I’ve had money and lost money—both to a greater level than most. That fact is not put out there to impress nor make me seem any better of a person than anyone else. It is what it is, money has been a strange sound bed to the movie that is my life. It has never done what it has promised to do, nor has the damage its caused been anything I could not find a way to get over. Forget about money for now—there is not enough space here to go into that. And again, it ends up being an excuse. I don’t need excuses, I am living my life right now to get away from excuses. To do.

To do.

Yet, is there anything there to do? Here’s what I know: I am not where I should be at all in life. I know I could be in a much better place, and while I know that does not involve finances, I still use that as… we’re back to it… an excuse. Ok, so it is a big deal, if only for its power over my decisions or lack of decisions.

I could probably do what I want to do if I could define how I’d do it. If I could plan out every eventuality. But I have a hard enough time just deciding on what color shorts I wish to buy. Something that just came up: I need to buy new shorts. Just so you know. That is not easy, and that not being easy—because of my obsessive, infinite-loop thinking—should give you a picture how difficult much more life-changing decisions are for me. Yet I think them! I think them constantly. In fact, they are a long-term obsession (as compared to the short-term obsession with shorts color.)

Is there, though, something tangible at the end of these long-term life-changing obsessive thoughts? They are constant, and they are well ordered. Well, as ordered as I can get them. Which is to say very, but not good enough to act.

I started this whole conversation saying “there’s really nothing there” but that is an absolute lie. There is something there because I’m thinking it. Well, what I am thinking is a bit foggy. It is close to tangible, but it is a dream so it doesn’t need actual architecture holding it up. It can be the stuff of moments, and doors, and calm satisfaction, and harder-work-than-anyone-else-would-put-in, and… freedom. Freedom from what I am now, what I am trapped in now.

This is the transcript of my brain when I am not obsessed myopically but with a greater aperture. This is as good as it gets. For now.

Until I figure out… how to make it real.