Weak people are usually the ones who know exactly what the world is dealing them.
This steady refusal to accept what is real is the only thing keeping most people on some sort of track.
When I say I've "burnt out" I mean I'm exhausted. The day I burn out for real is the day I'm going to disappear. Fade away, melt away, into the wind, like so many leaves, burnt orange by the sun.
Rhythmic prose. I know I messed up. I knew I should have done the History English double major and gone to my pre-law meetings. All my teachers were right about me, I liked making things harder for myself just so I could make myself feel better. And here I am talking about how I'd like to do something perfectly instead of finishing something but doing it half-assed.
My whole life has been half-assed. Why am I so fucking weak?
The apathy is the only indulgence I allow myself so I don't completely crack.
I can't motivate myself.
I'm so scared sometimes of what tomorrow is going to do to me that I don't even want to move. That in this moment- here and now- living, breathing- I'm safe. Untouchable. If I move, if I get up...everything will go wrong.
My mother was right about me. I've spent my whole life waiting for Godot.
