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.

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