I'm furiously scratching an armful of hives as I write this.

I've broken out every day since my birthday, and sadly, I'm no stranger to anxiety-fueled stress rashes. The same thing happened to me a few years ago, during a similarly stressful time.

So, what's wrong?

Well, for starters - lots of things.

Things big and small. Personal and impersonal.

Life is currently so bad for so many people for so many reasons, I'm skeptical of anyone who smiles in public, as if I'm watching in horror as a bunch of blissfully ignorant jesters aimlessly go about their lives like we still exist within a normal timeline, oblivious to their certain doom, a la Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" music video. I don't know if you've noticed, but shit is bleak out here.

But "what's wrong" personally? On a smaller - though no less existentially dreadful scale - I just turned 37, and I still have no idea who I am.

That’s right, of all the shared disasters we're currently experiencing (It doesn't rain in New York anymore!, Billionaires are becoming trillionaires! Can you prove AI didn't write any of this?), I'm selfishly focused on, well...myself.

Who the fuck am I?

Oh sure, I have the basics down. My likes (Jeopardy!, museums, cake) and dislikes (Boston sports teams, humanity’s current trajectory, mint chocolate). My strengths (writing, sense of humor, emotional vulnerability), and weaknesses (lack of confidence, procrastination, emotional vulnerability again).

But I still feel like a work in progress. I still feel like I’m discovering myself.

Who am I? Or, I suppose more importantly - who do I want to be?

It's a question I've asked myself since I turned 25 - the year where my depression, anxiety, and a crippling level of self-awareness joined forces to create a potent fear toxin that causes me to hyper-focus on my own mortality and the precious time I'm wasting with every blown candle.

Who am I, who do I want to be, and what do I want out of life?

Who can I be, and what can I achieve, realistically?

The questions pile up with each passing year, without a solid answer for any of them.

The truth is, life is a dynamic force that constantly throws unforeseen circumstances your way, knocking you off the course you had previously charted for yourself and meticulously planned in your head. Or, sometimes, you do get what you asked for, only to find out it wasn't what you thought it would be, triggering a new chase to fill the void you're forever trying to fill.

Goals change. Wants and needs change. Sometimes you can't focus on thriving because you're too busy surviving.

No one dreams of working shitty, demanding, low-wage jobs, or being homeless outright. No one plans for debilitating diseases. But life happens, and people have to react accordingly to the hand they're dealt.

I'm not sure how much of our lives are governed by our own decisions and actions, and how much of it comes down to random luck and factors beyond our control, which makes planning for things feel like a largely futile exercise, in my opinion.

But even if we do have more autonomy than I'm willing to admit, I personally feel paralyzed by choice while simultaneously being limited by reality.

For example, I'd love to find my soulmate. Just one amazing person who gets me, loves me for me, and mercifully ends this terrible, lonely, dating journey for good.

But I'd also love to have hot, casual, no strings attached sex with a lot of different women. Like, a lot of women. A lot.

But the reality is that it's hard to find either of those things.

Few people actually find true love - it either happens or it doesn't - and I'm not attractive enough to hook up with a different woman every week. So, I exist in between those two extremes. No soulmate, no random hookup. No emotional support, no physical satisfaction. Just sort of existing.

I'd love to live a quiet, humble life, making a living as a writer, just getting by, but doing what I love with minimal stress.

However, I'd also love to be a huge success with a giant platform that allows me to use my power and influence for good while also providing the kind of income that allows me to live out my wildest dreams with the people closest to me.

But, I'm not able to live either of those lives right now. Once again, just sort of existing.

As I get closer to (holy fuck) 40, I'd love to organically mature into a fashionable, suave, distinguished gentlemen full of wisdom, culture, and world experience - like the kind of men I see in GQ and Esquire.

But I'd also love to maintain my youthful punk energy, experiment with crazy hairstyles, continue rocking hoodies and sneakers everywhere I go, and not take myself too seriously.

Sometimes I wonder if I should consciously change certain aspects of my personality, but other times I think I should embrace my true self - whoever that is - and only surround myself with the kind of people who accept me for who I am and actually like who I am.

Like a lot of us, I contain multitudes and nuance and conflicting beliefs, to the point I feel like I'm in a state of constant emotional flux, never fully committing to one particular lifestyle or goal or desire and changing all of those things on a whim.

I mean, I'm currently debating moving to Europe, leaving everything behind, and forging a whole new life, or you know, just staying right here where I’ve always lived.

It's a never-ending clash of two extreme choices, and I never trust myself to pick the right one.

It's either inaction, and letting the spontaneity and randomness of life make a decision for me, or, making a decision myself after careful consideration, only to then spend every waking moment thereafter second guessing that decision.

My indecisiveness is a feature, not a bug. If there's one thing I do know about myself, it's that.

I'm hoping 37 is the year I finally figure some of this shit out, draw some lines in the sand, and start answering the growing number of questions I have.

But historically speaking, odds are I'll be writing a similar blog post this time next year.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to back to scratching these hives.