I’ve often wondered why I dare not give up.
Why do I have to be relentless with changing my life?
Why can’t I be subtle, discreet and not stir the pot?
Why does this nature of mine cause me to look for opportunities where some see danger?
Where others see despair and dragon’s breath — I see the chance to grow and to harness said breath?
Why can’t I be content with living a ‘normal’ life, living in a charming house with an erudite wife, a simple man? Just…I hate just.
Why does everything have to be the best life has to offer?
Why do the skies and stars seem too small for me?
Is it ego? Is it overconfidence? Is it sheer cheek? Am i suffering from illusions of grandeur? Or am I hungry to have it all and more with hard work?
It keeps me up at night, I become a specter to my dreams. I haunt them because they are looking for a new owner.
“This one’s broken, they say.”
“ This one’s no good to us anymore.”
“We need a new one!”
I linger around them like rotting cheese because they belonged to me. I owned them and now I’m disowned.
I am destined to be a someone , yet I’m stuck in the life of anyone, looking like everyone.
A year’s worth of tears drum roll out, a hand wipes them away and I see a tussle of hair on my chest and a small head between us.
“I won.” As I stare out into golden halls..
