I’m thinking about a million things in a dark space, in a small space. This isn’t the way I thought it would be. When I conceived it so many years ago, I was supposed to be sure by now…but I’m not.
I’m watching it all as if from a distance and as I watch the fear that I’m a disappointment and a failure is slowly consuming me and I can feel my mind willing me to fight, but I can’t, I have no fight left in me.
I have failed.
The funny thing is that everyone else thinks otherwise. I’m supposed to hold immense potential and I’m supposed to have great promise, I don’t though. You’re wrong.
You don’t see the inside of my happiness.
I’m slowly retreating into myself. Nothing matters anymore. The last thing that I had to hold on to is over. I debate, therefore I am. That’s what I’d tell myself. It’s over now, so there’s nothing from stopping the darkness.
A dark space, a small space.