Having a planet full of blossoming minds is so hard, when you want to be the one, to create something that’s new. Being mediocre is a lifetime goal, for some. I’ve always fallen out of the cookie cutter, which was meant to shape me into something worthwhile. Don’t touch me, I’m far from getting a smile plastered on with permanent icing. I’ve gripped the pencil, as I saw fit. I drew what scared me inside. Nobody can guess the emotion.
I said ‘good morning’ for the first time to the lady that runs behind me with her cup to ask for spare change every day on my route. I’ve always avoided her. My own finance situation made me feel more uncomfortable, than hers. She’s got a lovely smile. The cookie cutter worked on you once, didn’t it.? Or maybe lots of times.
I’ve given up my future dreams later this afternoon, this morning I had been fine.
This new routine… I’m scared it isn’t mine. And I’m scared, that rotting away at home, isn’t necessarily my choice either. I haven’t owned myself, like society and people owned me. And yet, there was nothing exhilarating about it.
I won’t have a midlife-crisis later, if I continue to use it up all now, right.? I think I’ve adored hobbies lately, that only lasted like a week. I’m afraid of boredom. Never actually had it, like other people claim ever so frequently.
I’ve been cursed with an aesthetic eye, but not the ability to get the pace right. Seemingly I’m living life 3 times slower, than others. I’m a half-accomplisher. I’ll belong to someone volatile in the future.
Back then, when it was more common to develop photographs, I’ve scratched out my face from some. The term “I feel the way, that you look right now”, has never had a stronger meaning than now.