Sometimes I feel like such a paradox. I really strive to be happy, and see it as the ultimate ideal, yet there are days when I can't stop thinking of things that make me sad. I'm lazy beyond measure, but also extremely ambitious. I don't really like myself, but in the same breath, I love who I am. I say I don't care, but I truly do, maybe even more than I should. I crave attention almost obsessively, with a keen understanding of how far I can go, yet I wholeheartedly reject it when it comes my way. I feel as if I'm this conflicted contradiction, in constant battle with myself, being torn apart by my dreams, and kept together by my tenacity, in a state of flux, shifting from one mood to the other, trying to find meaning for even the smallest of winds, always the wanderer and never the one who is found.
He will fail, he knows that now. He will fail at being loved, and loving in return. He will fail as your first love, and he will fail as every memory now forever stitched within your mind. He will fail, because that is who he is, that is what his journey is meant to look like. Forever recuperating from deadly blows and sinister strikes, endlessly picking himself up, just to be shot down once more, and infinitely more stubborn as each day passes by. This is the person you fell in love with, the person you gave everything to. A broken heart that never healed, and a defeated boy, who didn't learn how to let go.
