Knowing when to fold...

I still find it so fascinating how people perceive me. I've worked so long to create this image, this person I thought I wanted to be, that somewhere along the way I forgot who I really am. I know that boy is still somewhere, lying dormant and awaiting to be found, yet there are times more numerous than I'd like to admit, when I feel as if I don't want to search for him. What if it turns out he's not the man I want to be, hope to be, need to be? What if he's far more reckless than the reflection I gaze upon in the mirror? As I brush the surfaces of souls I meet in passing I am left in complete disbelief of how little I know about this world. I question the purpose of their glares, the subject of their judgement, and the intent of their solicitations. I find that when it comes to me, or better yet, when it comes to this visage I created, people are either incredibly annoyed, unusually intimidated or ... they're in love.

Walking out the door...

The odds of faith in the face of doubt...

If you ever had the chance, would you do it all again?

This sensation I'm constantly feeling, I think that's what they call being an adult. Making decisions you know will alter the future in unpredictable ways and realising that if something goes wrong, you'll have no one else to blame but yourself. It's terrifying, it really is, and anyone who tells you different, is either lying or hasn't experienced it for himself. They never talk about how hard it gets, and how unimaginably confusing your life will seem. The constant struggle to get up in the morning and make something of yourself, anything really, feels like a never-ending battle between the life we think we deserve, and the path we've been set upon. A war that's been lost, even before we started fighting and a quest we can only finish once we give up.

As I fade in and out of my reality, each time interwoven with more dire circumstances and with a lesser understanding of the destiny I have been foretold, I take a deep breath and make the wish I've wished since I can remember. While I have an increasing fear that I'll one day wake up with my life collapsing beneath my feat, I move forward, holding my head as high as I can, and trying to maintain the sparkle in my eyes, using all my might to hold back the tears. They will not see me cry, no matter how defeated I feel or how much I feel I've already given up, already sacrificed, already lost. It's funny how life turns out, and how sometimes there's nothing left to do, but take a bow.