So f… Special

I wish all the mistakes in my head would be spotted right away by God and changed in 30 minutes or less. I don’t care if it hurts. I don’t care If I lose touch with reality for a while. I don’t care If you cry right after they pronounced me clinically dead – well it could happen – and threw me away in the fridge with all the other losers in life. I don’t want to be special. Should I behave that way? Should I stay in a thin space of sorrow and overbaked dreams forever? All right… All right I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to… No… I DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT NO ONE but that’s all I can do these days. That’s all I can do each day God is willing to give me so I can walk down that path from nothing special to nowhere in particular.

I am not strong enough to reevaluate my life. I am not strong enough, I am not ambitious enough. Joyful. Peaceful. Productive. A patchwork of hours. Another coffee for the road. Break down the competition. Self-made people in the name of “I come from a tough neighbourhood you know”. I am not strong enough. Never when I sleep.

I should have become a priest. I should have become a monk. Working, praying, sleeping, helping and disturbing no one but my confessor.

Ready to go home. Ready for another sunset. And another tea.

 

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