Cake, Joy, and the Stomach Ache After.

As a kid, I used to have a lot of fun by myself. I would leave the house right after school and hop on the bike, riding around town, going to the park, running in the forests or the nearby pipe factory. And even though I lived within the limits of reality, I was never happy with just that. I'd let imagination take hold of me.

I would become the commander of a powerful rebel army, fighting against the suppressing forces led by my darker brother. I would have a vast armory of weapons, ranging from wooden staves to the rare iron, powerful- and heavier- swords that could cut through a tree monster's arm with little effort.

I'd set up bases, hide caches of weapons, and live a life in this forest until the sun went down. I'd come home dirty, tired and ready for the next day.

And every day, I would wait for that portal to appear in the circle of stones that I constructed in the very back of the forest. Yes, the Ultima game series really did influence me to the point where I believed in other worlds to the point where I was ready to abandon all in order to leap through any moongate, not caring what lay on the other side.

I still feel that kid inside me, lying dormant- waiting for the day when I can go out into the wilds again and enjoy myself. But life isn't like that anymore. Work, duties, and what little free time I have- I use inside the confines of my room or in the midst of company. Theres no more time for imaginary war. The commander has retired his status indefinitely. Its time to move on to bigger things.

And so I've moved on, and continue moving forward on the path that I cobble as I slowly move from stone to stone. Some stones don't fit and I have to throw them away. Others would fit perfectly but I manage to miss them, intentionally or not. So I've holes in my road that I haven't filled. And now I think I've stopped filling in an entire section of the road, hopping over it for reasons unfortunate.

I signed my disenrollement papers for class today. I managed to go through the first semester before withdrawing from the Pashto department. It isn't something I can handle- waking up each morning with a dreadful fatigue that needs to be satisfied through positive thinking and energy drinks.

I don't like it- I'm not comfortable. I'm not happy, nor can I realistically think with positive candor. This isn't what I wanted. I'm to blame for failing to unleash personal potential, but what potential am I willing to release when my whole entire aspiration for joining the Air Force died away when I got a language I didn't want? I joined for one reason alone and felt spit on.

I have no heart for this language. I haven't given up but I refuse to accept the language. I don't care about the extra money. I don't care about the position it would give me. It is not for me. Am I not pushing myself hard enough? Am I pushing at all? Am I to blame for my apathy?

As days go by, I waste my evenings and weekends alone, no interest whatsoever in seeing the outside world. My interests fade away as does my own creativity due to the sacrifice I've been forced to make in class. And yet as I sign those papers, my sense of dread is suddenly lifted and a feeling of slight relief appears in place. I feel guilty and defeated yes, but I also feel lighter.

Where will I go next? Will I get re-classed? Will I get another job? I don't know- and that is what terrifies me. Not the unknown, but the change itself.

I'm still waiting for that portal to appear, ready for me to leap through it without question- into the unknown.