Too late.

Some say it is never too late. But what if it is? It is too late and I am going to go. I am going to go and… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. Because it is too late. It is too late to do things differently. And I don’t want to change my ways anyway. So, I guess I am trapped in my own reluctance to be. What if I cease to exist? What if my breath stops? What if I close my eyes and forget to open them again? What will be my last thought? And if I fall asleep forever, what will be my eternal dream? I don’t want to know. I am here. I exist. I breathe. And I am tired. I am positive and I am tired. Exhausted. I am exhausted. Breathing is. Existing is. Being is.

The music keeps playing. Lives go on. Mine does too. Because I have a lot to learn, a lot to teach. I have a lot of love to give. And smiles to smile. I have millions of hugs to give. And words to listen to; to write; to read.

If I was… But I am not. And the rain falls down in its own way, and the wind blows in its own way. There is nothing more to say.

10 Replies to “Too late.”

    1. Exhausting really. But they rarely stop. Sometimes they grow more silent. Other times they are loud. Louder. And I do wonder if I should really release them. But keeping them inside makes me want to explode. And that’s quite dangerous actually. So, I rather allow those exhausting thoughts to exist.

      Liked by 1 person

        1. I agree. Loneliness, it’s a driving force. There are people in my life, but they can’t or don’t want to understand. I guess that’s why this place is where many things spill out.

          Liked by 1 person

          1. I’ve found most, but certainly not all people don’t want to hear such things. They are more comfortable going through life with the assumption that everything is fine. But maybe I underestimate people, probably because I am the one who is too afraid to appear vulnerable. Maybe more people would understand than I realize. Who knows.

            Liked by 1 person

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