I am not carved in stone. I am a liquid statue being poured from on form to the next. My heart beat is a rhythm of ebb and flow. I am frustrated by a world of cheap cement and expensive suits.
I am not who I am.
I have yet to be. Believing in myself is the only weapon I have against all of the nothing that surrounds me.
I thought it would be easier than this.
I thought that, when someone is born to do something, it rolls out for them when they find it. Nothing is rolling out for me. I am good at things, but things are not good at me.