Pensamientos

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…

fulfillment lacking.

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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