I'm a hard-ass.
What’s my problem? I sit and stare for hours, motionless, not accomplishing anything except, being trapped by the eternal questions in my head, the ones I really don’t want answered. The ones I ask, /already/ having a preconceived notion of what they will tell me. Then what could possibly be so appealing to me that would make me want to know? Knowing hurts, but I have this ideal in my head that tells me it will eventually build something. Something almost tangible, and something almost so lifelike, that you crave it. It’s all so cliché, but still a real problem, however insignificant.
Why can’t I see it? Why can’t I see the things that will hurt me before they strike? Isn’t there some preemptive warning sign? Or at least a 10 minute head start, everyone needs something, right? With 10 minutes I could do so much: run, brace myself, or hide. So many options, but I never receive those extra 10 minutes. Time flies too quickly for me to realize when to run, brace myself, or hide. We are always blinding by the things that bring us joy. We become consumed in it. It makes me blind to the hurt.
And then I go and blow it. Like a game, making that move that I thought was good, that in reality lead me to my downfall. But I am blissfully unaware during the minutes of unseen hurt and pain, I do not realize the repercussions of my mistake, and my invisible opponent is across from me smirking at my ignorance. Why can’t I just do things right for once?
But I never do, because I make mistakes. Like everyone knows I will.
Why can’t I see it? Why can’t I see the things that will hurt me before they strike? Isn’t there some preemptive warning sign? Or at least a 10 minute head start, everyone needs something, right? With 10 minutes I could do so much: run, brace myself, or hide. So many options, but I never receive those extra 10 minutes. Time flies too quickly for me to realize when to run, brace myself, or hide. We are always blinding by the things that bring us joy. We become consumed in it. It makes me blind to the hurt.
And then I go and blow it. Like a game, making that move that I thought was good, that in reality lead me to my downfall. But I am blissfully unaware during the minutes of unseen hurt and pain, I do not realize the repercussions of my mistake, and my invisible opponent is across from me smirking at my ignorance. Why can’t I just do things right for once?
But I never do, because I make mistakes. Like everyone knows I will.