The Empty

No this isn't. I feel held back. Empty in ways.
I am my own worst enemy. How do I fix that?
My success is written...and I have no choice.
No power. No control. But I do...

It doesn't...it does matter what I do.
I am the vessel, the hell the conduit.
There are extents, limits, boundaries to be pushed.
Can I push the limits of who...what I am?

I am here for a reason. I have a purpose.
What am I going to become? What will I be?
There is more aned my time isn't finished.
I can move on when I am done.

This struggle is a part of who you are.
You are this maelstrom, this storm; I am the weather.
Ever-changing...predictably unpredictable.
This will never e over. My calm is a precursor.

So is my torment. So is my struggle. There is no end to a horizon.
I have been traveling for so long...wandering.
I have trouble remebering where I came from...what it is like.
Even though I am not, I feel alone, but lonliness is not what ails me.

Something is missing...I am whole but a part of me is absent.
I have ambition. I have motivation. I am familiar with will and courage.
Something is missing. Passion? Emotion? Understanding?
I must struggle to remain happy, in futile effort.

What left is there, but to go on?