Everyday Seems to be the Same Thing.
Everyday seems to be the same thing.
And everyday is a different struggle.
Everyday, I face questions on whether what I write is truly worth reading,
on whether I should stop this balderdash of a hobby,
or rest and try another day.
I begin with new ideas that never come to full swing in the end.
I see new concepts, new ideas everyday that I completely forget most of the time.
I pursue one goal on another, but I fail to see it thru the end.
Today is both different and ordinary at the same time.
Same, such that from the moment I wake up, I face the question, “is it really worth it?”
Different, such that I’m always given the choice to pursue or surrender.
Everyday, I look up to the sky, a bad habit of mine,
searching, that, maybe, Heaven might give me an answer.
Everyday, I try to leave a mark unto this world,
hoping that I may leave this world different as to how I’ve seen it when I first arrived.
I try to be brave, to be strong, to be patient, to always have faith. Every single day.
I hold back the tears when I should be crying.
I keep my center when emotions bombard me left and right.
I wait and keep everything to myself.
And yet, not one soul has seen me struggle.
I face mediocrity like a war, and I fear that I might surrender one day.
For always, at the end of the day, I’m tired of feeling tired.
I’m tired of seeing myself try.
I’m tired of longing for something that I fail to see bear fruit.