She was a rainbow in an otherwise grim diary
I was lunacy to her,
lunacy to her stability. Her disposition battled mine.
Last love of the real kind – I felt it dissipate at 16.
Even then I doubted that I’d ever feel that way again.
I embody desperation, the feeling stemming from…
I’m too scared to choose
for certain a new avenue.
Can this “profession” be my passion if I approach with hesitation?
“Will it make me money?” – always it’s a prime consideration.
I am occupying this position – that I know for certain
I want to occupy a better one – that is generally my purpose
What does “better” mean? That is what I strive to figure out.