i guess all those nights i spent studying
just weren't worth it.

and the hot flashes of nausea that kept me from sleeping
were just warning me of my incapacity.

and my cuticle-less fingers that dripped blood on the exam paper
must not have been wanted it enough.

and my stupid brain was foolish enough to believe that
i'd "done my best"
(was it? was that all i could have done? ever?)

god what was the point of it.
god it's not even that big of a deal.
god you're just stupid and you're inefficient.
god maybe you should have just done better
god you just can't get it can you
god if this is hard, imagine college
god stop! stop hitting your wrist against the table, it's not helping!
god google it, can you lose your academic gift?
god imagine their faces when they see your score
god how will you hide it now
god help me i can't go back don't make me go back please please
god wow you really thought you did well you thought you earned it
god what if you didn't care about it, then it wouldn't matter
god imagine that, you don't study, and all the expectations are gone
god imagine that, you don't try.

you don't try.

oh.

maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore i shouldnt try anymore i shouldnt try anymore i shouldnt try anymore i shouldn't try i shouldn't try i shouldn't try i shoudn't try i shouldn't try i shouldn't try i shouldnt try i shouldnt i shouldnt i shouldnt i shouldnt

I'm afraid of failure
Of becoming a burden
But above all, I'm afraid
Of hurting the ones I love
And ending up alone...

Yet I'm here, I've shown
In the face of my demons
And screamed at them
That they'll never take
The very best of me

So I may not be fearless
I'm quite fine with that
For I'm brave

The moment at night. I am supposed to. I have needed to. For many years. Again and again I find myself at this point and failed.

I can blame the world, but it is I that has failed. I failed myself.

Only I am real, nothing else is real. None of you are real.

Just lines, shadows, white paper and crayon.

Good night.

September again, a lazy river pathway to October. Not much different from August here minus the dwindling daylight hours. I try to drink from the river by dipping my cup. Submerging it time and time again—restless.

Little leaves on the surface and a million dabs of light dance there too. I quickly bring the cup up to my mouth in an attempt to drink from it—closing my eyes in the process. In anticipation. Only to find it empty once again.

I dip, submerge, I feel the water flow around my hands (I know it’s real, I know it’s real) repeating my last steps right down to the emptiness. The lazy river keeps moving and I stay kneeling at its banks in the setting sun—one with the river but never fully submerged and never allowed to drink from it.

I think of myself from 5 years ago
would struggle to recognize me
he'd say "what the hell happened?"
and I would have no answer

in truth, I have no answer
for all my shortcomings
when I was a kid,
people called me brave

people listened to me
I was sure of every single thing
I sought out to do, every little step
was calculated, as if I knew what I was doing

I was once a bright child
maybe the tallest beacon in my family
my grandpa and grandma sure thought so
and my mom and dad didn't seem to mind the idea

what the hell am I now?
who is that person in the mirror?
I fret over these questions in my head
but found no answer

who am I now?
not even God can say...