I am.

It's been awhile since I've written anything substantial, not fantastic for someone who bases his entire field of study upon written word.

This post will be a little different. This post will not be professional. This post will be personal. This post will have harsh words. But most importantly, this post will be real.

I've written a lot of speculative type shit in this blog. I talk about things that I analyze and read mostly. I've yet to actually live many of the things I've written. I don't know what it's like to have a serious relationship lasting more than a year. I don't know what it's like to go through a divorce. I don't know what it's like to have an abusive childhood. I simply don't know.

But I try to. I want to.

I want to understand and better myself. I try every fucking day to be better, smarter, more well rounded, more "complete."

Let me clear something up right now. I've had a great childhood. I moved when I was too young to have friends that I would have substantial memories with. My losses consist of only my grandparents. My parents were supportive of me, my sisters protective, and I will say right now that I firmly believe that I have the best fucking friends on the face of this planet.

And sometimes I still feel really alone.

How the fuck does that even work? What the hell is missing? What is wrong with me? I don't know, and believe me I've tried to find out.

I am assertive, confident and I love taking risks. Whenever I have no idea what is about to happen to me, I say 'fuck it' and take a chance. Mixing myself into unfamiliar situations is fun and exciting to me. I like exiting my comfort zone, just seeing where life takes me.

Though when I feel really sure of myself, when I'm positive that I have found some sort of direction in my life - brick fucking wall. You grasp that solace for one minute, and everything just seems to work out okay. Then you're thrown a curveball and your mind takes off in fifteen directions. I don't know about you, but I fucking panic when that happens.

I am obsessed with control in my life, or at least until this point I was. Nothing really happened to me that I didn't want to happen because I pushed people away before I lost control. Today, I have decided that is a worthless way to live.

Control? What fucking control? Am I fucking stupid? You have control over one thing, you. You control what you do. You control who you associate with. You control your decisions. I have plenty of control in my life, why the hell do I want more? What's the point?

That's it. I DO have control over my decisions and my emotions. I love feeling emotion, no matter how painful it is. I feel so fucking alive, even when I'm sad. A man much wiser than myself once said that one day, I'll look back at this age and wish I cared so much about such insignificant shit.

My name is Mike, and I am fucking alive. Not only that, but I am happy to be alive. I want to sit under the stars and just breathe, breathe, breathe, taking everything in around me. I want to listen. I want to just fucking listen to the world.

I am often insecure, sometimes a basketcase, other times an asshole, but I am me. I should be proud of who I am. How can I be comfortable with others if I am first not comfortable with myself?

You know what I'm going to do tomorrow? I'm going to wake up and work out for the first time in two months. I'm going to start designing my tattoo. I'm going to stop fucking waiting for everything to happen to me and make it happen myself. I'm going to just stop and fit in with the indifference of the world for once.

No one is going to dictate my happiness but me. If I have to bury some feelings, then so be it, but I'm going to feel them first. I'm going to feel that emotion surge through me. I will stutter, lose my train of thought, and say things the wrong way. I will not be articulate and succinct. I will just be, and what happens will just happen (thanks Chuck).

I've made a lot of mistakes and sometimes I feel that I haven't learned shit. But you know what? Right now it's Wednesday, July 8th, 2009. The time is 6:05 AM and I am still standing. I've made it this far, and I will push on.

My name is Mike and I am fucking alive.
My name is Mike and I am fucking alive.
My name is Mike and I am fucking alive.