Rogue-Developer.com

For the past few weeks I've gone to bed angry. Angry in the stiff backed, fists clenched, jaw locked way.

It is the daily realization that I'm not where I imagined I would be. I look to what the future holds, and imagine my goals, but the path from here to there is obscured. A infinity of paths, with no one to point me in the right direction.

There is no one to blame but myself.

I keep thinking: Tomorrow I'll throw down, and really get things done. I'll take the first step, I will kick ass and take names.

But by the time my head hits the pillow, it is always the same shit.

So I lie there, tossing and turning, lamenting my inaction. Secretly glad that I haven't yet tried and failed. Safe in my imagining. Angry at my hypocrisy.