untitled him

I don't know what to say...but I feel compelled to write.

Have you ever felt incomplete?

Truly unfinished?

Like there is some part of your soul that is in the yet-to-be-used piece pile of your own personal puzzle? Sometimes I feel like I am the second rate "B" actor version of the role I was supposed to be. And it has nothing to do with a missed career or a failed marriage or some dream that I expected to realize and hadn't yet. Because my life is good. I have a beautiful wife who loves me (no kids yet, but we're working on it), a good job that pays the bills, and a pretty steady group of friends that I hang out with.

Yet there is something under the surface that screams, "Hey You! It's me under here! I'm your 'untapped potential!'" I have heard that my whole life...potential. I hate that word. It seems to connote that you have some sort of superhuman reserve that you choose not to use. Is that ever the case? Like you're moving along in life at 55 when you could be going 75. You're still going the same direction right? It doesn't matter how fast you get there, just as long as you get there.

But this is rarely a problem of speed. Because I will be the first one to admit that I am as laid back as they get. It seems to be more an issue of how I use my time. I don't need to do more things, I need to do right things. So are "they" right? Is this potential untapped if I disregard the right for the okay? Am I stuck in the rut of reasonable action? I don't know....I just felt compelled to write.