I climb slowly
gripping each ledge, each pebble
leaping from perch to perch
nearly flying.
Each breath sends chills down my stiff spine.
Each heartbeat drums strong in my fingers.
Each moment moves slowly until it passes,
until it is gone and I must move onwards,
upwards and onwards.
Directionless, I merely climb for ages,
days and weeks and summers pass
essays and applications
money and apartments
endless obligations I halfway want.
I've done what I'm supposed to do.
I don't know what to want,
what I want.
Happiness is to the north, but I dropped my compass years ago.
I stumble in each direction, moving closer, farther.
Still, I climb, clinging tight, promising myself another year.
another draft that's been collecting dust
