It is extremely terrifying to have to start over.
Especially when that is really all you seem to do.
You start over and over, and never really end up getting anywhere.
And then, I guess you die.
How many times have I had everything taken from me?
Out on the streets, turning from the left to the right
Trying to take in my surroundings and find some solid ground.
Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it’s not.
Sometimes it feels like I am trying to escape from quicksand.
Never really getting ahead but never getting any further down.
Just staying in the same spot about to drown at any given minute.
I don’t call this living at all anymore.
It is just surviving and my strength is getting much harder to find.
It is getting harder to breathe, way too harder to smile.
It is getting hard to believe in myself.
Or in the belief that I am capable of anything more than I have already done.
I worry at times that all the happiness and good memories to make have already happened.
That for the rest of my life I will just be continuing this never ending struggle.
Then one day I will just slip down into the dirt.
And I will just be gone.
And no one will remember me for the good I never did.
And no one will remember me for the love they felt for me.

One day, no one will notice but I will just be gone.