I keep getting the feeling that I’ve wasted so much time being closed off, so many years being in solitude, so many quiet moments that could’ve been spent familiarizing the ridges of my fingertips with tattoos and the roots of someone’s hair, my ears with feedback from the speakers and my spine with a heaving chest.
Beyond that, I keep feeling like everything I touch turns into a rusty bronze worthy of 3rd place, just a notch above an honorable mention, and a handful below where I’ve always wanted to be. Beyond that, every card I scratch says ‘try again next time’. My strong point is that I’ll always try again, my weak point is that I’ll always end up where I started.
I’m just really sick of chasing after overcooked goals, sticking to my guns and swimming against a current. It’s come to the point where I dream about my dreams coming true, and that’s a couple of dreams too many for this world-weary soul.