I do not remember the day I became a walking contradiction. I just know that I am one, and I can't change it.
I can write, yet I'm not published. I can dance, but I don't. I can run fast, but I only walk. This question reverberates throughout my life, to the point where people are asking me what do you do?
Life has become a question, and my existence is not the answer.
I exist in my bed, for around 12 hours a day. Then there is my laptop which serves me plentiful tasters of a life I used to have, but somehow I lost. There are pictures of friends, and a beaming smile, but those friends evaporated, and my cynical grimace dealt with that smile. I eat one meal a day, and I don't feel any different. I don't lose weight, I don't gain it, because I'm in my own limbo now. I am the Missing K, and I've made it my business not to be found.
Not right now.
I decided to do this. I chose my own exile, to apparently get my shit together. My shit still remains to be found. My debt bays for me, progress is some never never dream, and a steady income seems laughable. I've been mucked around, beat down, betrayed, and so far I've chosen silence. Sometimes, you need to just...listen to yourself. You know what you want. And even if you're not sure how to get it, if you think a while, you know you can do it. Know you can work it out.
But there are people, who don't want you getting what you want. They are jealous, they have insecurities, or just plain bitter. They try to distract you, and before you know it, your chance, your life is gone. I blame no one but myself, but I know their negativity is unacceptable. If I ever come back around, those people will be eradicated from my life. I have to find my way home. And somehow, I'll bring that smile back too. I'm running out of time now, there aren't many days left...we have to fight for the moments worth grasping sometimes.
The only question is, how many more fights will it take, to get me home?
It's never too late, to be the person you might have been.
George Eliot.
I can write, yet I'm not published. I can dance, but I don't. I can run fast, but I only walk. This question reverberates throughout my life, to the point where people are asking me what do you do?
Life has become a question, and my existence is not the answer.
I exist in my bed, for around 12 hours a day. Then there is my laptop which serves me plentiful tasters of a life I used to have, but somehow I lost. There are pictures of friends, and a beaming smile, but those friends evaporated, and my cynical grimace dealt with that smile. I eat one meal a day, and I don't feel any different. I don't lose weight, I don't gain it, because I'm in my own limbo now. I am the Missing K, and I've made it my business not to be found.
Not right now.
I decided to do this. I chose my own exile, to apparently get my shit together. My shit still remains to be found. My debt bays for me, progress is some never never dream, and a steady income seems laughable. I've been mucked around, beat down, betrayed, and so far I've chosen silence. Sometimes, you need to just...listen to yourself. You know what you want. And even if you're not sure how to get it, if you think a while, you know you can do it. Know you can work it out.
But there are people, who don't want you getting what you want. They are jealous, they have insecurities, or just plain bitter. They try to distract you, and before you know it, your chance, your life is gone. I blame no one but myself, but I know their negativity is unacceptable. If I ever come back around, those people will be eradicated from my life. I have to find my way home. And somehow, I'll bring that smile back too. I'm running out of time now, there aren't many days left...we have to fight for the moments worth grasping sometimes.
The only question is, how many more fights will it take, to get me home?
It's never too late, to be the person you might have been.
George Eliot.
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