It is almost refreshing to sink into what I once was
To feel myself stagnate and lose interest
It's somehow relieving to meet my old feelings again
To feel both exhausted and restless

I am not doing enough yet, have not achieved
I am not trying hard enough, haven't put in my all
I am not reaching far enough, am not throwing my weight
I am not enough to climb over this wall

A wall between myself and motivation
Between creativity and creative endeavors
Between myself and my dreams and wants and hopes
A wall between stagnation and corrective measures

It feels like coming home to a house I never intended to buy
Like opening the door to dust and checks to pay off bills I forgot to write
Like finding my bed a collection of moths and holes
Like seeing where I was and intended to be until I was old

However

It is also like entering an old home never put up for sale
A space that I know but a space I dislike and won't return to as well
Like feeling the nostalgia from a bitter memory in some bastardization of regret
But moving on because you have moved on and don't plan on turning back yet