Another failure.
I crumple the paper and trow it at the trash near the desk. Unfortunately my aim is as good as my writing and the paper doesn't even reach it. It falls to the floor near it. Like my dreams also fell one day.
It took me a second longer to stop looking at it.
"Screw it."
I decided to not lose anymore time and instead of berating myself over something I can't find the heart to do, I open my laptop.
Games.
I need to play a few rounds and kill a few losers.
Running from reality while playing games is easy.
That way I can ignore my useless degree, my shitty job and my failed life.
If at some point I thought that by 25 I would be employed to a good job, have a car and on my way to get a house for myself.... That turned out to be just a dream. From all of that I just got the car. And even he is not really my own.
Its pathetic to be still living with your mom at 27. Even more pathetic that I know I won't ever be moving out due to family reasons.
The job? My 3 years in university were wasted the moment I moved countries and here no one cares for whatever degree may be written on my resume. Even worse.... My job is one of the lowest there is.
Dreams? Goals? Expectations? I even forgot what that is.
Let's face it.... I am a failure.
I can't even write a story.
Suddenly I snap out of it.
On my screen were a defeat sign that tauted me even further.
Guess I also won't be getting out of bronze anytime soon.
Great....
Then, from the corner of my eye I catch sight of my trash.
I didn't want to end up like this. I still don't.
I want to go forward.
Then I pick up the paper from earlier and open it again. Let's see what I can salvage from it.
Because there was a day I wanted to be a author.
