Intricacies

Wish

I wish there was a way where I could fail without failing; I wish there was a way, some means out of this mess that we've made, to make mistakes without becoming one.

All that once was and all that ever could have been now resembles the fine dust lining the fine china dishes and antiques stored away in tall glass cases; nothing but a layer of something of irrelevancy, something that could be forgotten without even a moment's notice, and with a mere swipe of a fingertip.

I wish there was a way, some way, any way, for me to be and show who I really am; who I could be, who I'm meant to become, who I want to be. I wish there was a way, some way, any way, for me to do anything, but it's as if the opportunities have hidden themselves within the fine lines of a small print; nowhere to be seen nor found.

It seems as if the world has closed on me, as if there's no hope left. Everyone that was able has gotten their own proper little glimmer, and I've been left, abandoned, it almost feels like, amongst the empty streets to cope. These streets are barren and empty and have been forgotten, and I fear that soon, I will be, too. 

And all this time I didn't know that there is a way; there is a way to fail without becoming a failure, there is a way to make mistakes without becoming one. All this time I have failed and fallen and scraped myself up, stacking up the mistakes upon my weary yet restless body like books, and I have labelled myself as a mistake, as a failure, as something, rather than someone, that can never be.

I have beaten myself and cried myself raw, thinking that all this time, I have been a mistake. I have been thinking that I have been a failure, that I can not change, that everything wrong that is happening is all because of me, falling upon the weight of my shoulders. I have weighed myself down and burdened myself with nonentities of my own pity and remorse, wishing for a way of knowing; a way of knowing that I had already known.

I have made wishes upon wishes upon wishes, hoping for some sort of solace from those distant burning stars. I have made vows and promises to the person who I am, the person I want to become, and the person that I shall be; I have spoken and whispered and thought and cried out words upon words, all made up of the very same letters, strung together through the overflowing nerves set off by confused emotions. 

There is a way to fail without becoming a failure, to make mistakes without becoming one; there is a way, there's always a way, for you to be who you want to be. There's a way to put your best foot forward, and there's a way to succeed. There's a way, a clean and open pathway that's piecing itself together as you read these words, knowing that your body will be the one to glide across it.

And guide you it shall; the way, the pathway, your pathway, shall guide you; so wish no more and treasure your battered thoughts, for there is a way.

There is always a way.