Protect Me From What I Want

Loath the routine, fear the change. I don't mind being disliked, hated. A villain, a bastard. It's better than being a ghost, better than being furniture. And easier than being a hero. There's just some part of me that wants people to tar and feather me. Goat song. Am I slightly in love with the chaos in my wake? Is that the only thing that I can create? A room full of mousetraps and nowhere to jump. Or is that an optical illusion? Is that what I allow myself to see? How long can a hold my breath? Why do I insist on letting myself lose? Entropy, apathy. Blinders. I've never fought for anything...my whole life, never stood up for myself, for anyone, never protected anyone...run from conversations, choices, fights, the future. I'm a coward and it has to stop. It's ruined my relationship, my friendships, my connection with my family. It's like freezing...it's so easy to sit down and go to sleep...when you should keep moving, fighting. I'm scared of everything...and whether I like it or not...I need to start being an adult...I need to make myself...better. I need to find the winner gland. This isn't who I suppose to be. This isn't how I should let myself be. Sisyphus doesn't have a choice, he can only roll the boulder. I'm not damned, not yet. And if some of the mousetraps are real...well, nobody said that walking forward would keep you safe from a little pain.