Adjusting to life's changes with hope… through poetry, haiku, and commentary

About To


Do you suffer from excelling
at the mundane, from too many
years alone on all levels?

I do.

It takes greater effort
to swim in the mundane than
in water. Mundane is heavier
and it drags you down.

I wouldn’t mind the mundane
if it had meaning or purpose.
But being alone has lost its
purpose; it is yesterday’s
prize.

Somehow, I missed my life;
years of abuse hid me from
myself.

I want to know others and be
known better than my laptop
screen or work PC knows me.

I hunger to be with people
instead of things. I long for
dialogue. I ache from years
of monologue and solitude.

I want to listen to people
talking instead of listening
to myself think. Instead of
the tapes, movies, and
dreams that play in my head.

These dreams play on,
year after year. I never see
myself in them. I watch
others. I’m like a movie
camera taking pictures of
life but never a part of it.
I guess I’m in a constant
state of “about to.”

About to enter, about to go,
about to come, about to do.
About to succeed. About
to anything everywhere.

The only conclusion I can
draw from this is, I guess
I work alone,
I eat alone,
I walk alone,
I sleep alone,
because in these dreams,
I’m there but I’m not.
Alone is what I do.

Living life alone means
“about to” never comes.
Did I just scream?
Or, am I about to scream?

I’ve heard things that no one
else has heard; it hurts to
hear what I’ve heard to no
effect.

Will I like the end of the
movie of my life? Don’t ask.
I’m at a crossroads about to
take the first steps to
somewhere.

No, stop. No more. Stop.

“Oh, it’s just an interim
job, a stepping stone to
something better.”

That is a lie. Mundane
boiled, fried, or baked
is still mundane. I’m tired
of getting ready for what
never comes.

But hopeful it is about to.

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