I have a pattern that I still haven't learned from
of biting off more than I can chew
As I continuously reach my arms out towards the sky
Believing I am destined for greatness
And crash onto the surface of the ocean
like a stone.
Yes. Like a stone.
A perfect descriptor for my existence.
I wake up some dys and feel heavy
A brulap sack filled with smooth, gray rocks
Someone cut me open and filled my stomach
And sewn me back up with such talent that I cannot see the stitches. Or a scar.
I desperately want to blame someone. Something. Anything.
For inflicting this fate upon me.
But I cannot deny the possibility that I might've eaten the stones myself;
smooth gray stones I struggled to swallow
And forgot about promptly
Now here I am standing dreadfully at the edge of a riverbank
"You chose this river, and now you don't want to swim?"
I am chastised.
My arms and hands reach out towards the sky
And I pray to a god that doesn't listen to me
"Please. Please let me float."
(And I think about it really hard because I fell for the lie that hard work alone can get you anywhere.)
I jump.
And sink, like a stone.
Drowning.