Limbo

I’m at crossroads with myself. I want to be a pharmacist. I want a good paying job so I can take care of myself and my aging parents. I want to be that successful person who redeems their race and gender, who everyone looks to as an inspiration, a role model, an exception to the misconceptions that trouble every young black female from the south. But, then again I don’t. I want to be me. I want to travel the world and communicate with people even though I am the most socially awkward person that has ever existed. I want to be an artist, a musician, a writer, a photographer. I want to paint every bit of earth’s beautiful landscape, starting with where I am. It is beautiful, it is safe, it is home, but I possess no skills for this, and no matter how much I love this landscape, it doesn’t absolve the fact that I want to get as far away from here as possible.I just want to do so much, but I want to do nothing. Have you ever felt like that. Like there are two forces pushing on you, so opposite in direction, but so equal in magnitude that you can’t even act on anything. You’re in perpetual limbo and you can see the world passing you by, and all you feel is regret, like the friction burn you would get if you’ve grasped something too fast to ever capture , nevertheless hold on to.