Corners

I am waiting for something.
Usually this is a bad sign.
A premonition of the
other shoe dropping.

The back of my head itches
and I feel a hand reaching
out to touch my shoulder.

Why are we so hard
on each other?
Why does everything
have to represent
something else?

I often feel as if my potential is
a gift bestowed upon me at birth
that I didn’t do anything to deserve
and I never asked for in the first place.

Gifts
can be curses
if they come from
the wrong people.

I want tomorrow to arrive
as just some other day.

With no fanfare
no promise
no expectation.

What must
that be like?
~4/14/15
_____
I try so hard. I grow weary of the quicksand. And I admit it, I am bitter as hell. My life has been happening TO me for so long I wouldn’t know what to do if I ever got to really make my own choices.

First world problems.

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