It is golden outside. It is warm and beautiful. And the wind is kicking the leafs like little soccer balls. But instead of letting fall permeate through me, I am thinking of life. And the thing that my soul most desires, but always seem to escape despite my dire efforts.
I’ve passed thirty now, and I know through my trials and tribulations, that you can’t really fight life. Its pull is much stronger. You can’t really fight yourself for your own weaknesses either. These kinds of self-wounds are nothing but self-strangulation. And this is where the defeat feels much stronger, cause there is nothing to fight, just accept. But what is left to accept is nowhere near what you wished for? What then? Hope for the best? What if you’re just tired of doing so? What if keeping your faith up feels like a fruitless effort, that only makes you wonder if you are being delusional? What then?
I guess you keep going, but to where? Or is it, just doing the opposite? Stay still and truly accept it. I guess, life is what it is. And in its defense(life that is), I still feel blessed with what I have.