Struggle to get up

I wake up every morning determined to make the most of it. I am ready to be used, I am ready to tackle every issue, assured that I am invicible and that I can come out on top. Then it happens. I am forced to undergo the world's toughest critic, myself. I am on the verge of hating my life as it is, but I must be reminded that everything happens for a reason. I am a mess, an old mess. I can where I want to be, but held back by my present. This supposed gift has turned into a disease ripping through my brain. Through I see rain, blood rain just pouring, being wasted day in and day out. Am I being ungrateful, possibly. I just truly disgust my situation. Once again the late-bloomer, but thank God it's only temporary.