Making Dreams

It's not easy and sometimes it fills me with doubt. Sometimes the shaky ground beneath me completely falls away and leaves me with nothing but myself upon which to dwell. I may not always know what I'm doing or the value of the work that I do, but I'm going for it, I'm doing it, slowly, shaky, step by stap, not always confident, not always happy with my results, but nonetheless, living the dream that it is to pursue that which I believe I'm worth... happiness. I'm my own man, living for myself and not for "another man," "a machine;" I have no king to resent, I have no system upon which to hate. I am my own man. Come with me? Love me? poor or wealthily? Take what you will from my insecurities. Judge how you will my placement, my position in the hierarchy. Put upon me whatever label you see fit, though labels to me do often not stick. I'm nothing other than a deeply complicated vat of fluids spinnig and stirring and mixing me up sometimes. I'm nothing more than a man. I'm nothing more than a very small morsel being chewed in the mouth of life upon a very vary large planet. I make mistakes, I doubt, I succeed, I love and I play in the valley of all that is unsure.