I want to chase a spiritual existence.  Not one condemned by rules of an overpowering spirit but a life where my soul chooses the direction my feet travel, not my brain.  I worry I won't be monumental, I won't create my own thoughts.  I don't want to conform to the opinions of others I want to be the first drop of rain.  My biggest fear is to end up ordinary.  Molded by imagination and guided by the magnificence of an unbelievable world I want to behold all knowledge.  To write sentences that would make Mark Twain quiver in jealousy.  I know as of now I am a failure, a slave to self pleasure.  Unable to say no to society's rules, scared to be uncomfortable.  I hate that I am a coward.  I want to follow the ways of Thoreau, Emerson, even McCandless's the dead boy from Into the Wild.  Why do I lack self discipline, motivation, and confidence.  There is no source to blame but poor will.  I wish to fathom the truth behind the stars, the freedom of tall peaks, the tranquility of roaring rivers.  I want to be unique in every sense of the definition, compare me to none.  I want purpose to be abundant among me, happiness in its simplest form.  I give little care for the directed world, the “what do you want to be when you grow up?”  I crave change but yet anything uprooting devastated me.  Im a contradiction of some sort, a soul controlled by a cowardice mind.  Reason overrides whim, and laziness wins over pure adventure.