A plan is all I need. A fine one at that. One that’ll whisk me away from this life of existential poverty. It’s not the 'without a home' kind of poverty. It’s deeper than that. It’s not staring at a navy blue BMW with eyes of envy. Nor is it that longing for a few extra commas on a paycheck.
It’s a hunger of the soul. A craving to express oneself without limit or restriction. In the United States, this craving is stifled and ignored. Sometimes I wake up in the mornings with a strong sensation of dissatisfaction. The next second I succeed in forcing myself to believe I know what I’m doing. That I have a plan. I don’t. For sometime now I’ve been drifting to and fro between ideas, jobs & hobbies.
None of which fills this void in the pit of my stomach. Yeah, I want money, fame, glory, and an armada of nice cars. Most importantly, my own castle where I can reside in solitude.None of that compares to this craving though. A insatiable appetite for freedom. This land, this home, this car, this body, this mind...is not free.