I stand here, staring at the sign, waiting for the blur to clear so that I can read the words. I know the key is there, in reading the words. But, try as I might, their meaning remains obscure. And so I just stand here.

People pass me by. Some are known to me and I speak to them and they are happy when they leave me, my sadness a deep secret that they cannot see. Others pry deeply, sensing the sadness and try to find out why. I say things to them, and they seem to know what I feel, but it is all a lie. All of it. They can’t possibly know what I feel, as I don’t know myself. I am lost and alone at the crossroads.

And some know better, and are waiting for me to see it for myself, not able to really change things for me. I am sorry for that, I really am.

I know I must move soon, as I cannot seem to understand what the sign says. That I just need to decide on a course, a path through these dark woods, but I just stand there like a statue, staring at a sign I can’t read.
Questions go through my mind. Why can’t I move? How did I get here?
Where should I go? Why can’t I read the damn sign? But there are real questions buried under these that I can’t ask myself, but I that I need answers to. Not the obvious ones about the existence of God, or what will happen when I die, or even how will I die. Those I don’t really care about. I will get those answers when I truly need them and I really don’t need them.

If there is a God, then God is giving me information as I need it. And when I am dying, I will know that it is time. As for how I will die, I think everyone who truly knows anything about me knows that I long for battle and glory. And that I shall never have them as I want them. The real battles are fought in the mind anyway. My mind is my sword and I have honed it for the battles that I fight everyday. And although I win most battles, I am slowly losing the war due to the wounds I suffer in every conflict. And I have suffered grave wounds this year.

But I digress, as I always do, to avoid the real question. Ok. Here it is. The real question is –the one I have avoided all these years.

Who the fuck am I?

Certainly, I can come up with many titles, many names. Protector, Father, Ex-husband, Asshole, Son-of-a-bitch (sorry, Mom), Brother, Thief, Warrior, Philosopher, Teacher, Slob, Slacker, DBA, Programmer, Rock Singer, Flirt, ad nauseum. But am I any of these? Or are they what I do? I don’t really know.

And so I stand here, hoping that I can move soon, before I lose everything by doing nothing. I really want that to be soon. I want to make changes that will mean something to my daughter. I want to make certain that she understands what it means to screw up important things and still be able to move on. I mean really move on, not just move. I know that some folks can live their whole life not knowing who they really are, even convincing themselves that they really know. Some study deep topics, even becoming a great teacher of these things.

I don’t want to be like that. I just want to read the fucking sign.