Why is it so hard?

Why do I make it so hard?

Why do I avoid doing what I know I should do?

What I need to do.

My apathy is as thick as molasses and as sticky.

I’ve been tarred and feathered with it.

No amount of soap will get it off my skin or out of my pores.

The scent of it makes me slightly nauseous.

And yet comforts me –

as familiar,

safe even.

No need to quest or try.

I am who I am, doing as I’ve been programmed –

keeping the peace

not making waves.

A bit off kilter or out of whack but never reaching beyond –

my status

other’s expectations

or even my hopes.

Is this it?

The life I’m meant to live.

Is this how it will end?

Stories, visions, pithy observations, and amusing anecdotes stuck inside?

Curled up under the bench waiting to die? To fade away …

Why is it so hard?

Why should I expect any more or different than anyone else?

Who do I think I am?

gangly

awkward

naïve.

Could I also be?

Powerful

Deserving

Loved.

Do I dare challenge the way?

To escape the shackles of a life without challenge. Or joy.

Just plugging along isn’t enough anymore.

The dissatisfaction –

with the status quo

the way things “are”

my so-called place in life

risen like a Phoenix.

Why is it so hard?