audeamus: let us dare

It hurt to write almost as much as it hurt to feel. It hurt to do both but especially at the same time. And the writing was only thing that would come out besides tears and I was just so tired of tears. It was a paradox and I was trapped in it. Stay and be unhappy if it’s a no or leave and be unhappy of it would’ve been a yes. There is always the off chance that those situations would be reversed, but, you see, these things never happen for people like me. We’re the lucky ones and sometimes nature has to remind us that the lucky ones need to lose too. And when we lose, we lose big. I’m talking times square on new years eve big or super bowl commercial break big. And it’s always when everybody is watching. What people don’t realize is the lucky ones have it the hardest. They have the highest place to fall from, and none of their fans are at the bottom to help them up, just big, round boots waiting to stomp them down again. I’ll be okay I kept repeating and maybe I was right or maybe I wasn’t maybe I was trying to convince myself that I was. It didn’t matter if I was right or wrong. It mattered that it was real and it was happening and I had a choice. A real, antiquated choice to make. Stay with the big kids and play hard ball, or lose everything and find a new set of kids and a new game. Something was over. I wasn’t sure what, but I was sure that my heart was somehow involved because any time I thought about it, I felt my brain and my gut tugging war over my heart, or what’s left of it. All I had left to care about was my pen and not even really because pens can’t feel or care at all, but neither do people most of the time. It was hard to know that pens and people could care the exact same amount. It was hard to know most things. And I cried I guess, if there were even tears left. There were no tears left.