I have been me for as long as I can remember.
I have tried to be different. I tried to be other people or someone else, but no matter how I tried, the only person I could ever be is me.

Anything else was fake, like an imposter.
I’ve been a fraud before, like a bad check that has no business or funds to cover the debt.
I’ve been this before too, or otherwise bankrupt, empty, or voided like a canceled check that was no longer worth the paper it was printed on.

However, past endings and old challenges are no longer my focus nor should they be.
Bottom line is as follows:
This is me.
This is my skin, or like I always say, “this is the skin I’m in.”

I suppose a better question to ask is, “What is it?”
What is it? What gets you out of bed in the morning?
What motivates you to get out of bed and go to work?
Or if you don’t work, what pushes you?
What drives you?
What is it that makes you put in work?
Or what happens that makes you want to stand up even if you don’t have the strength to stand?

Some people tell me “it’s my kids.”
Or I hear people say, “I do it for my family,” which I get and I understand.
But what is it?
What turns and revs your engine?
What gets your motor running despite the empty gas tank?
What is it?

I believe in things, such as the war of man or the war within. I believe in the power of these battles and how the devastation of thought can lead us to our own forms of self-destruction.
I am far from alone with this. Then again, life in thought can lead us to lonesome places, whereas the abandonment and the suspicion of betrayals can cause us to lead preemptively, we tend to cause our own collateral damage or needlessly strike first and fast to keep us safe.

And so, if it is within me, then this is within me — and so, the rest is up to me.
Peace is a decision. I agree. Much like the peaceful warriors who have learned to differentiate their battlegrounds, I need to find my way and find the horizon where promises live.

I often go back and consider what my life might have been like if I were to make one simple change. Perhaps I have spent too much time on this.
Or maybe this is enough to motivate me and keep my past from being my present.

I pick a time or an age and consider the differences that might have been. Then again, hindsight has perfect vision, which makes it easier for people to beat themselves up when they think about the conclusions or the unwanted criticisms.
We all have dreams.
We all have plans too.
I say these things are enough to keep us alive, even if we feel like we’re dead, or like someone in our life is killing us –
(slowly).

If I could want to be anything, then I suppose I would want to be anything better than situations around me.
Look around. Look at the unfinished plans or listen to the common arguments that seem to go on for hours.

I say this with all certainty because I look around and I see the fights and problems. I see the items around me, which have changed over the years.
I see myself and my small place. I see my losses. And I see my bank account, which is not what it used to be.

I have designed this place for years now.
I tell you this because this place means the world to me, even if it’s not real or real to the rest of the world. But for all this is worth, this place is real to me.
And so are you.
I have created this little spot in my head like a studio or workshop to help maintain my sanity.
I needed this. And, I needed you too. Hence, this is why I’m here.

I had to build a place for myself, even if only in my mind.
I did this so that I could find somewhere safe to be myself and open up.

I am going to say this and leave this here. Then again, this is where I always leave things like this.
Right here, with you.

I suppose my fear and even my greatest fears are common, as if to be like the norm.
Or maybe my fears are simple. Maybe this is silly and the items in my life that frighten me can be compared to everyday things which occur among regular people. Therefore, I am not so different nor do I have the right to complain or bitch.
But I do . . .
Maybe I am plain, like vanilla. Maybe I am otherwise flavorless and not so noticeable, like the happenstance moments which take place in our daily existence.
Or maybe not.
Maybe nothing about me or my fears are commonplace.
Maybe I am inherently different and unlike anyone else.

I have been thinking about the thought machine for years now.
I know, this sounds like a funny thing. But this is very real to me.

I think about the thoughts that either push or pull me in a specific direction.
What are they?
Where do they come from?
How do my thoughts gain speed the way they do?
And if it’s possible for someone to think themselves sick, then why do we do this to ourselves?
This is what I mean when I say I have been thinking about the thought machine for years now.