Story About A Book Called My Life

My life is unraveled to me, like a page in a acim authors . Sometimes I skip paragraphs, peek at the next chapter, “call out” the next phase. This is the type of book with multiple and alternative endings. If I try and skip ahead, curious to see what will happen, I find options as to where I can and/or must go to next. I am unable to simply flip the pages back.

However I read the book, even though I may find myself at my original page, or sometimes further back than I was, I am unable to turn back the pages.

I have a habit of being impatient, literally jumping like a little child who sees the parent hold his/her favorite candy from afar. It is a bad habit in my world, because I make hasty and final decisions, not to mention believe in plunging head on and attempt to swim after.

I read the pages and try to be attentive, but I also have a humongous and colorful imagination. My brain likes to process fifteen things and nothing at all at the same time, while playing a home-made movie complete with a soundtrack to keep me company all day long. This all takes place while I am doing what I am supposed to do in my daily life, including carrying out active conversations with others.

I read people well, and mentally summarize them in a few short minutes, allocating active listening space to them based on initial and progressive understanding of the people and situations I meet. You would think I would be highly successful by now, I do have an amazing brain, I guess my impatience has gotten in my way.

Unbeknownst to me, my bad habit Impatience went off and married another one of my lonesome habits residing in my brain, -Commitment.

I guess -Commitment was lonely because s/he refused to commit to a person or thing on my behalf, preferring to be “wild and free like a bird”, as though I know how birds feel. Well, wild and free is my motto and yet I find myself highly frustrated by these alternatives being offered when I skip parts of this book, as I search for the Next Best Thing.

It needs to be Next and the Best, for each thing I have sought and conquered was supreme. In my colorful world, I have done many strange things. I have always thought I should have lived with insane superstars. In moments of self-pity and martyr, I find myself grateful in the knowledge that with each ridiculous roller coaster ride I embark on, that there is one if not two close family members or friends aware of what I am doing.

Each witness is apart and estranged from the Next and each roller-coaster dip unrelated from the Last so an exchange of notes will not exist. S/he may be questioning my mental frame of mind at all times, but I figure it should make for an interesting funeral if nothing else.

Everyone and No one knows all my sides. I am good at being a walking contradiction, most visible to myself. My words have always been my armor, I elicit exact responses. If it is goose bumps I seek, I get them, if it is an audience, I command it, if it is silence, there we go.

So I am reading this book that by and large Makes sense and is Nonsense, while trying to peek at the next pages or altogether skip large chunks of paragraphs. Much like the people and situations I have made a life-long habit of studying, I have summarized my existence and purpose in less than 500 words. It is a great two paragraphs and a very bleak one. I see stars and heaven in my visual, as well as a never-ending dry desert

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