Day to day life is turning out to be an extremely boring chain of uneventful experiences.

I'm terrified of my life never being anything but un-extraordinary.
Day after day, just living to live.
Breathing because it's necessary, eating because you can't survive otherwise.

I want to live the kind of life where, when I'm 85 and dying, I can look back and truly be awed at my existance.
I want to see the world and fall in love and fight for what I believe in.
I want to feel alive.
I want to do things that terrify me.
I want to touch people's lives.

I want to be happy.
When I'm sad or angry, I want to feel it deep in my bones; it can't be something I push away. I need to embrace it and accept it and learn from it.

I want to love so much that it hurts; the kind of love Romeo and Juliet fought for. The kind of love Tristan and Isolde had. The kind Cathy and Heathcliff felt.

I want my life to be full and rich and breathtaking. I want everyday to be an adventure of it's own. I want to truly feel what God intended for me to experience in this world.

I'm terrified of my life being un-extraordinary. I'm terrified of never getting over my addictions. I'm terrified of never changing for the better and missing out on an opportunity that would have changed my life forever.

My life needs to be extraordinary, but I wouldn't even know where to start.

i remember

I remember, that essentially, I started to believe in God because of you. 

When we were little, I would have tears streaming down my face when they would yell.
You would clasp your hands and clench your eyes. 

Then you would look up.

you pitched me three steps

The other day, for the first time in a long time, I want you to know that I actually listened to you. Not that I normally ignore you, but I do. Just every once in a while. Because sometimes, you say things I just can't stand to hear. Like, "stop being so forgiving" and "I know you're not really an optimist, so stop acting so damn happy." 

But this time, I listened. You were pretty convincing, I must say.  You told me to stop worrying. That those panic attacks I  keep having are avoidable. You pitched me three simple steps.
One: Let go. 
Two: The ones who care, will love you regardless of your mistakes.

Three: A hike in the mountains can cure most un-diagnosable mental traumas. 

I wish it were as easy as that. But who am I to argue?

You're the one who has your life together. 

Maybe it's time to take a leaf out of your book.