I sit here tonight in tears, at the loss of a life, the rememberance of an amazing friend and anger towards me for feeling sorry for myself, when I've been given another day to change my situation. My friend Dashon was not so lucky...
Four years ago today I learned of the passing of my best friend's brother, Dashon Butler. We were close, but not as close as I would have liked to have been, would I be given another chance to have him in my life. We always think we have tomorrow. We don't. The rest of today isn't even promised to us, not another second, even. Are we content with where we are or do we want to change it? If the answer is change, then what do we need to do to change our situation? Sitting and complaining or wallowing in self-pity is not going to do anything but guarantee that our life is a little shorter, given unnecessary stress.
I don't like where I'm at in life right now. They say idle hands are the devil's work and that's what I feel like my life is right now: idle. I am so used to full-time work and full-time school, that as soon as I'm given a little time to rest I get extremely restless. I sleep too much, I am unmotivated. I try to think of things to keep me busy and when I make a list of things, I look at it and decide I'm not in the mood to get them done. I am on Facebook for hours on end, constantly refreshing the page to see what some friend that I haven't talked to since high school graduation is doing on the other side of the country or wondering if the person that I'm constantly thinking about is thinking about me, also. I need to disconnect from the internet and help ME, before I can even consider helping anybody else.
I have made an effort to try and use these extra hours towards something productive, and hopefully sooner than later I will begin to volunteer. I need to stay busy and stay that way. I'd rather have to nap in my car to get sleep than to fight my body that doesn't want to sleep because it has had too much rest. They say be careful what you ask for. Well bring it. I'm ready.
