LIFE IS HARD. I’ve always lived under the assumption that I can do everything—but I can’t. I’ve always focused on rich, successful, hardworking, loving, living, and graditude, but I feel poor and desolate in every way. I’ve always walked faster, and dreamed longer than days past and yet, after all, I’m just me. Trying hard.
Maybe I’m not trying. Maybe all this is just passing of time, relentless allusions of failure and procrastination, soft grievances of waiting and a subtle wish for passage to fame, or at least recognition. Am I wrong? Where am I, and when can I forget? When can I achieve?
Why does a multitude of words and images, feigned to be all I’ve got, all I’ve got, all I’ve got, always feel tangibly mediocre—
lackluster—
lost?
?
I’ve not the words. You’ll always be better.
approximatelyes.com 