I wonder if I ever truly loved someone
Or these memories of past fires are fraudulent
Tiny lies so I can talk to my friends about the mundane
Useless drama, useless talks, little excitements
Little spats.
I'm tired of these tiny lies I tell to myself

Let the hushed autumn wind remind me of finality
Dying leaves, remnants of a dead summer
Things will be over soon
This dull hum surrounds me
Reminds me of upcoming change
Change like a spring can only come from the whisper of death
Forgotten times
Memories, not moments
Whispers

I miss the shallow tides of life
Those childish whispers we had of careers
I swear we all wanted to be doctors at least once
Now it's just student loans and unemployment rates
Bitterness towards aspirations that were once so mystical
They leave a sour taste in my mouth

I'm a lazy perfectionist
I only accept the best but never work for it

There is a heavy insistence from those close to me that I'm better.
That this dip in my improvement is nothing more than temporary.
After all most flowers must wilt before they truly bloom.
But I am bitter, I feel nothing from these roots.
A shadow of years of practice.
I doubt that I am a necromancer and my talent is dying;
If I try to remain on this path I'll die a failure.
Maybe I should go against my goals for money or fame
Something I can grasp that won't pass through my fingers.
Baby steps towards a future I didn't prepare for but one I'll survive.