Doofus doofus doofus

Hey there. Guess what?
I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING. Ever.
It's quite concerning, people! Come on, internet, save me here. What the hell should I do for the rest of my life? or part of my life? Or the time between now and the fatal tractor accident? What?
I don't know, please tell me. I've already tried selling cheese, but there's not a big market for serious cheese enthusiasts in this crazy world we call home. I've attempted to start my own bakery, but I didn't get a rise out of it. I've tried to plant my own garden, but there was no thyme. I've looked into boating but I was uneasy with it.

So, now what?
Do I just sit here, typing frantically and desperately as if someone, anyone, is reading this and wants to see me succeed as a cheese saleswoman? Or do I bury that dream like a child buries their dead goldfish in a shallow grave near their house, where it will float up after the next storm, losing all dignity?

Maybe someday, when the hairs on my chin have faded into a dull gray, I will look back at this time of doubt in my life and laugh it off like a magician laughs off the loss of a dove. By that I mean, look back with great sorrow, because who on earth doesn't cry when a dove dies? Who? Not me, show me a dead dove and I will bawl my friggin' eyes out. Maybe someday I'll wonder why I didn't consider just winging it, much like a live dove does when in flight.
When you think about it, who I am in this moment, and who I will become aren't that different from doves.

But when you think about it more, you realize that they're actually nothing like doves and I'm an idiot.
So maybe I'll just be an idiot for a while longer and see where I land. I mean, if worse comes to worse, I can always be a dove.

Quit with the dove shit.

I'm a doofus.

Not quite.

"Have no fear, you're a deer."

And into the sea they paraded.