I don’t know what I want right now.

I don’t like that.

I feel happy (mostly),

But I feel aimless,

Which means that the happiness won’t last,

Or that it’s not good for me to have it.

I talked to my therapist.

She said that it’s normal.

But I’m worried that with self compassion

I’ll stop doing certain things entirely,

Like reading.

Reading.

It’s not supposed to be the center of my world

I like doing other things too.

But reading is meaningful,

And there’s so much of it to do.

I’m aimless.

I need to be sad,

I need to be anxious.

Then I could read and be happy,

But that isn’t right.

They say I’m improving,

And I think I am.

But how could I improve upon,

Facing death?

That’s what it is isn’t it?

That’s what it always is.

What it always comes back to.

Living with no regrets.

A life with no regrets.

A calculated life,

Planned every step of the way.