Breathing my Mind into Your Face

I’m sitting on the screened in porch avoiding productivity like the plague. Instead I’m stewing in anxious thoughts, considering everything I should be doing other than getting high and journaling. I tried scrolling LinkedIn and liking and commenting on colleagues’ posts. That’s some effort toward professional social engagement that could lead to sales opportunities. But then I started seeing what all these people were doing and realized I’m not attending or speaking at any upcoming conventions or visiting any clients soon. I’m lucky to be employed. They know I’m lazy. They judge me and want me out. That’s why I”m cutout of meetings. They want me to sell but they don’t want my opinion on how the company should be run or steered. I’m a jitterbug of ideas that I spread like seeds hoping someone else will want to water them. Because I’m not the guy that puts in the dedicated work to see an idea to fruition, take credit for it, demand respect and authority and money. I’m just the guy skating by on very thin ice. The end feels near. Can I be the one to take charge? Likely going to need to stop getting high every night. That puts me on the couch watching tv, eating junk food alone. People that take charge don’t donate four hours a day to watching shows and scrolling Instagram. I have to engage. I have to figure out life. How is there no internal rewiring surgery I can get to fix me? I’ll ask AI.