tangled webs

as I become more acutely aware of my situation the weight of it becomes more and more difficult to tolerate. The situation is simple. I cannot continue spreading myself so thinly throughout each and every one of my... aspects.
Who is he? Is he a geek? A stoner? A hopeless romantic? A goddamn sexual deviant? A scholar and a sorcerer? Or is he simply a fool?
Perhaps the man encompasses all of these things, perhaps none. Mayhap he is simply, as miss fortune put it, a dabbler. Not truly and properly walking any road at all, merely taking those first hesitant and meaningless steps down each path he encounters, leaving a piece of himself behind each time.
This weird routine can do nothing but destroy me eventually, as one day I shall have nothing left to give out, to give away, no more roads left to walk that will actually go somewhere.
choose. For the love and understanding of all the gods in the cosmos, choose.
Perhaps this trip you seek to take will afford you the clarity of vision you so desparately need.
Maybe you will just go blind.