I try my best, I really do. I've given up everything, yet somehow it still doesn't seem enough. I don't seem to be enough, and as that realisation slowly sinks in, with almost no hope of redemption, for the first time in a very long time, I can't hold back my tears. I miss the life I've never had, and it hurts in ways I can't truly explain. I see things ... differently and in the end of this story, that is the curse I bear, that is the tragedy of this boy, who never learned how to let go of his dreams, who never learned how to let go of the people who forgot about him. I am thrusted into an everlasting limbo between the cards I've been dealt and the hand I want to play.
It's only up to me, and that's the hardest pill to swallow. I never get to choose, because they always use the things I love against me. I have one foot in the grave and one foot in the sea, and I'm just living for the hour. I spin round and round and round, while I try to learn the game, as I learn to run the hustle, and I wonder what would be, if only the dream would someday take me to infinity.
