Need to push.
C’mon, damn it. I KNOW YOU CAN DO THIS.
Focus, Jacob. FOCUS.
You can do it.
I forgot the word “reindeer” today so I described them as “Christmas llamas” why
…Life’s moments are too short. Life is pretty long, but these moments are too damn short. You never know when they’ll just end.
Miss a beat, lose the rhythm. Nothin’ falls into place.
Should I be here? Am I missing something?
Hard to say.
It’s been a long time since I sat down and wrote something. My imagination’s become so dark. I’m sort of afraid of what lies there.
But if there is a happy ending to be had… perhaps I must brave the depths to find it.
Perhaps the same can be said of this moment.
What profit is it to a man, to gain the world and lose his very soul?
A fairy tale bargain she called it. A gift of the magi.
Perhaps I was a fool. Thinking I could have everything. Love, pride, and wealth. And ending up with none.
Or maybe, it’s just beginning. I’ve been saying that for so long, though.
I’m so much older than I can take.
Losing over and over again. Why am I such a loser? Even when I make myself into a winner… I come back here again. Like a tiny planet on which I am running in circles.
So here I am, pushups, situps, running. Physics, political science, programming. Friends, clubs, family. Juggling all the time. My life is nothing but juggling.
Used to be better at it. Feel like I want to go home.
I’ve asked that question far too many times. Is it with my family, in that little nowhere town they’ve settled in? Is it with my friends in that urban hellhole we all sought to escape? Is it with someone that doesn’t want me anymore? Is it here in Columbus, with my new friends and new future? Is it that place in my head that hasn’t existed for a very long time, if it ever existed at all?
I’ve carried sadness with me for so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to live without it. There were a few moments there I was able to let it go. But I can’t figure out how to let it go. I’ve wanted to. God, I’ve wanted to.
But that’s not my choice, it seems. It seems to me that I have to live with it. Will it serve some purpose in the grand scheme of things? Is it important that I know this constant burning burden within me?
Or maybe we’re just specks on a rock hurtling through space. A cosmic accident no more interesting than any of the other unusual rocks out there.
Homesickness is just a word. What it is, is a whirlpool. And a cold air.
It’s a face in the clouds, that you’ll never see again.