I read this somewhere
Got me thinking
Reminded me of you
Your thoughts on it?
My answers to these questions were never satisfying enough to silence this relentless inquisition. Instead, they stirred it deeper, rooting it permanently in my mind.
Though I might appear immaculate on the outside, I find that staying realistic often makes more sense than staying blindly positive. Sometimes it’s despair, sometimes vulnerability, and, most often, a sense of being left with no other choice.
When life strikes you in the face with the cold reality of “life isn’t fair,” be prepared; it’s only the beginning of all that is to come.
The famous adage, “Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet,” doesn’t quite seem to apply now, does it? Patience, yes, it’s bitter—I’ve held its taste on my tongue for far too long. But where is the fruit, or am I simply meant to wait indefinitely?
They call these the golden years, and they tell us it’s okay to make mistakes.
If these are the golden years, then why am I drowning in this sea of dearth?
If it’s okay to make mistakes, then why am I held accountable for my very birth?
I don’t know what you and I have in common, but I hope it’s an unfiltered, undeniable loathing for this so-called upright and virtuous society.
Before I share my unsolicited views on humankind, let me first introduce myself.
I am torn between calling myself a poet and a victim of life’s inescapable trench. But I must include how I am just like you—not necessarily in age or experience, but in the shared familiarity of our thoughts, delusions, and thirst for answers.
Because, darling, we’re writers, poets, readers, listeners.
We don’t wish to live forever; we wish to leave something that will.
To be frustrated is to bleed from the hands, but to bathe in serene melancholy is to hold delight in the blood on these pages.
Shaping my existence to make it comprehensible revealed me as one lost in modern lethargy and foreboding confusion.
