cold... (part 1)

i don't write poems. i'm not a poet. but here i am, trying to solve my problem with boring words, clumsy rhymes, cliché phrases. ha, who am i kidding? i can't solve it so simply. i know that for years, decades, i'll have to fight on, against my fear of uncertainty. what's my passion? what can i commit to? what should i sacrifice? how can i make my life meaningful? will i ever change my bad ways? or will i cry, regretting my past decisions when it's time to decay? how can i leave a mark in this big world with my small presence? questions, questions, questions, all unanswered. spiralling, spiralling, spiralling, in what seems like forever. i know i have to move to find the answer, but i like to snuggle in my warm little comfort zone ... but am i comfortable? or is my body aching from stillness? the blanket of comfort warms me outside, but i'm cold inside. i have to shake off this bad cold. so i hum optimistic melodies, reaffirm hopeful beliefs. it feels a bit warmer that way. but when I take just a small glimpse out of the blanket, it's freezing. it's so freezing. so i shrink back in, shaking from the newfound cold, cold inside, still, insecure, still. frustrated with myself, still.