Fighting for a semblance of collection, re-collection—bearing maybe. Maybe not. Well, whew, lately I think the only sane way to live is by not thinking about your future constantly.
But I do it anyway. The cities and occupations, sometimes even careers, they haunt me all. I wake up in the middle of the night unfulfilled. I feel my un-accomplishment burn heavy on each inhale. What's this breath worth? Which direction will it fuel me? Which sail will I fill when I finally let it go?
Well honestly, I breathe a lot, I was probably just planning on exhaling or whatever. It's an awful lot to plan each breath, suddenly there is another one right around the corner! Breaths are kind of similar to loan payments in that way.
At least it beats failure. Standing still is better than drowning and it always will be. Plus, I bought running shoes today, that's gotta count for something, right?
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