My life is made up of units of time. I distract myself within those units of time,
accomplishing nothing. I’ve had a full
life, and yet I wonder if it’s meant anything.
I find myself wandering about in my house or in my yard or at my job,
wondering what I’m doing. Why I’m there,
in that spot, at that moment. I’m
circling the drain.
I don’t want a different job; no job could compare to the
one I hold right now. I want a different
path; I want to be a writer, but I have no earthly idea how to do that. I have to change everything. Gut my life in every aspect. Change every breath and every decision made
in each of those breaths. How is that
possible?
The life is killing me softly – telling my whole life in a
handful of useless words.
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