And so I looked back over the year and suddenly marvelled and the shallow groove my trajectory left, the slow and quiet progression I took as I cleaved unto obscurity, as I made myself...utterly replaceable, in my job, in my romances, sometimes, even, with myself
how do we do these things to ourselves? how do we decide we are barely there when every step is so heavy, every emotion so catastrophic, ever moment so heady?
how are we ghosts in such a vivid and invasive world
and so I'm forced to take responsibility, forced to address the voices that insist I must have played some small role in deciding to be the understudy in everyone's life and while I neglected my own, and it was me who decided to let my own drama unfold stage left, faithful friends holding props and wondering where the fuck I was, and who was this ass with braces and a wandering eye unable to even remeber her lines?
damn my lucky stars
I dont' if I know there is an answer
But I know it started somewhere near the point in which other's fascinating fascinations became more facinating than my own interests and led a dim dull trail down paths of insecurity, of mediocrity, of judgement and insincerity and selfishness
and I know it ends right here, where I sit
keyboard in hand, contemplating all I have and want to give
and how little effort it would take to finally assert what all thats worth
it's not pretty, but it sure is bright
and when it comes on, I dare you to look away