Building a ship just to watch it sink

The boards are coming together and the sail is cut. The crew is picked out, a long list of potential travelers cut down to a short few. When it's finished it will sail across the world through storms and calm waters. But for some reason I don't want to leave the beach, the solid ground, the dry soil I'm used to. I can't face the horizons. I can't come to grasp the ocean breeze. The weight of the water and the darkness and the uncertainty is too much for the ship to hold. Why can't I move forward in life? Yea I'm comfortable, but what's the fucking point? It's just an excuse is what it is. And that sickens me. I can't take myself sometimes. I'm just constantly treading water. I need to jump up and swim. I need to change. I need to be everything I choose not to be. It's the hardest god damned thing in the world. I've been trying to be better than I am since day one and I've made little progress. It's time to shape up or ship out. I need to feel the sun illuminate my body from inside and out.