Popped Cherries

I woke up today and realized, quite frankly, I’m a fuck up.
It’s one of those things you don’t ever want to admit about yourself, but once the evidence piles on itself over and over, it’s a bit hard to avoid.
How many times do you need to check your bank account balance and see it’s overdrawn for the 4th time in a month to understand the merits of a budget?
Is there a limit to how much money you try to extract from your parents before you might want to understand that life line won’t always be there?
Can you get your license suspended 3 or more times before it’s beaten into your head you might want to take care of those tickets and taxes?
How many pointless jobs can you go through before you finally realize you have the ability for more if you just go for it with your all?
How can you be handed a game plan on a silver platter, the means to execute, and the time to follow through, yet just sit there frozen? Blank.
What does it take to finally get the push you need?
Is it horror?
Is it pain?
Is it loss?
Is it happiness?
Pride?
Love?
Sex?
Hope?
Money?
Nothingness?
Is it anything?
How can you be so…yet so…
How will it all end?
Will it ever end?
What becomes of the ones who want, but never do?
I don’t suppose you hear about them all that often.
The voice of the chosen voiceless….

I had a few interesting moments trying to fall asleep last night. I was begging my mind to create me the ultimate of stories. Something I could turn into gold. My own personal touchstone.
I received startling information.
My mind can’t think under pressure.
That’s untrue.
I did have a few fabulous ideas.
Mountain moving?
Perhaps.
Run of the mill?
More than likely.
I’ve been overflowing with thoughts of creativity as of late, but it’s mostly just fell onto blank paper.
What’s the use of being an idea man?
Who in the history of the world has ever been given credit for being the guy that had an idea?
It’s always those that, at the very least, make it past the idea phase and into some sort of pre-production.
You don’t see Kevin Smith sitting at his house podcasting from his living room because he had a really cool idea for a movie he never made.
You don’t see J.K. Rowling sitting in cafes sipping coffee and checking her billion dollar bank account because she thought about a boy wizard, but never fleshed out the story.
You don’t see Bezos, fucking Bezos, in his Gulfstream because he thought it would be a really cool idea to launch a website for online merchandise, but never secured the domain name Amazon.
History is full of people who made their ideas come to life.
Out of the ether.
Epic tales don’t tell themselves.