I have goals that I would consider self-actualization, steps that I want to take to achieve my greatest self. I am close and yet so far when I am unable to act out this production fantasy. My reality compromises with my head by allowing me to describe my effort as adequate when I know it is not my best. I cannot cater to myself, I do not know myself well enough to facilitate my true path. I am not a spectre haunting a pile of flesh, I am beholden to my body for my own cognition and I abuse myself in order to create the conditions to realize myself despite knowing what I am doing is actually sabotage. The gap between me and my goals is simply the patience and grace I afford myself, which is a budget of none. Doubtless many have tripped on this stone, which I have come so far to stumble on over and over again. I know this and I see it with my eyes, and yet I trip on it once more. As if I had the memory of a goldfish. Because I cannot envision a world in which I truly exist as I exist now where I do the things I want to do. I can see me working, but not living with my work. Being able to turn a decision into a routine. Turning my life into a series of processes without external stimuli outside of my refinement.