the inevitable

*twenty-six

wrapped around me
it's bunching up at the seams
growing tighter and tighter around my arms
it stings
my fingers are sticky from mediocrity,
I can't get enough
I can wipe it every which way
but it's always going to stick.
so cold, my hands are numb.
what else is there to do other than just
dawdle
watching my world fall apart
then come together again
with a wide eyed expression
like I didn't already know
is my success predetermined?
will I always give into giving up
the path ahead gets blurrier the more I look