Spontaneous Combustion...

Passengers aboard flight 041410, this is your Captain MsHap speaking. I apologize on some level for the two days I took off from writing (I know some of you hang on my every palabra, as you have told me) and for this slight discomfort and any increased levels of anticipation I may have caused you, lo siento. Starting this week and seeing it successfully through, has been so far like staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, knowing that maneuvering the obstacles and obligations and simple desires of these seven days in April requires a steady, unfailing commitment to not taking my eyes off the weapon held between my eyes. I fall asleep each night, and wake each subsequent morning with the understanding of what my captor requires and expects of me over each 24 hour period, and comprehend as well, that if demands are not met, there will be hell to pay, be it lower grades at school, lack of responsibility and productivity at my jobs, diminished athletic stamina in regards to the mini marathon I am signed up to run in May, disappointment on the face of my sister (my world in no uncertain terms) if I were to miss her AAU basketball tourney this weekend in Chicago, calls from bill collectors if I do not get things paid on time.

My life has always been one that could potentially be this high strung, a series of check marks on an unending to-do list, and this is not the first week that I have ever had to tackle this amount of musts/shoulds/wants. However, it is the most that has befallen me in the better part of forever, days starting early (I am not a high-functioning member of society before 2 P.M.) and ending with a full powering down of my system, whether I want it or not, and not simply me falling into sleep/hibernation mode as before. More frightening to me yet, is the pinching feeling that has started to besiege me, at the spot of flesh where the bottom of my skull meets the upper region of my neck. The pinch, which is the result of being soaked by tidal waves of sheer realization as if I was to walk in on a cheating significant other, signals to me that if I am truly to be ME, the driven, achieving, contented, MsHap, than I will have these days, these weeks, this sort of frantic schedule until I am to be all burned out, used up, under. And it's not that I am capable of this lifestyle, don't find myself secretly wishing for it. It is just that I haven't strung more than a handful of good days together in so long, that to do so, is going to require an entire upgrade on my part, and not just in that "pop in a disc and tweak the bugs in my software, upgrade my anti-virus scanners, and gain the ability to have all the things I'm working on simultaneously exist on my screen." No. I am going to have to re-learn how to operate, have to delete more than cookies and temporary files out of my being, digging deep into my memory to rid (although only physically, because for some things there is no forgetting) of the detrimental, lazy, masochistic routines and mentalities that I have given myself over to since I was 18.

That was 8 years ago. 8 years of self-medication, degradation, lack of respect for myself. 8 years of disappointments, wrinkles on the brow lines of my parents, lies. 8 years of yo-yo weight loss and gain, unnecessary stress, and more heartbreak than one should ever have to endure. 8 years of wondering if I will ever live up to my potential, the talent and skill set that I have to hear I possess from people around me, be it my sister and brother, a close friend, or random individuals that I serve California rolls to at work every day. 8 long years of waking each day, even on those in which I wished I wouldn't have, knowing this potential exists within, and not the type of potential that scouts buzz about at the NFL combine, or the potential that exists because some fluke occurrence has created hype. No. Knowing instead that I have IT, laying so close to my surface, wanting to explode, energy forced still under the weight of my bad choices, my bad attitudes, my ingratitude towards God and his grace. Potential just marinating there, itching to be transformed from stagnant to kinetic.

Enough is enough already. It is time to plug in and re-boot. Re-release myself. And unfortunately for some, if you're a bug who only serves to build me up, only to watch me crash later, you won't be making the cut. And it doesn't mean you weren't fun. I've had a million great times, and have a million more to come on my plate. I just need to remember the majority of the great times. To not feel guilt when I think on them the next day. To not need your help to piece together an event that I should be able to easily recall. I am intelligent. I am in control of my destiny and self. I am much, more stronger than I have ever given myself credit for, stronger than I even believe myself to be now. Alt. Control. Delete.

Watch me burn.