Wasted

        From the very beginning I knew that I never did quite get this life thing right. I just didn't know the rules, you see. And even now in my old-some age I still don't know the rules of how I'm supposed to behave, or be.
Everyday I wish there was some kind of book or manual that could tell me the finer points of living. Do this here, say this then, all of this would come in considerably handy when I need it, which is every single day of my existence.

        Some days I wonder when my life will start. When will I get my come to Jesus moment and finally get off my ass and get the gumption to just DO SOMETHING?!
...Sadly, that time hasn't happened yet.
They say patience is a virtue but..., this is killing me.

        With each passing day I feel myself get worse and worse, I lose more and more hope in me, in life, in hope, that anything good will happen to me. It is a sinking, horrible, feeling to behold in a small space as one's (tiny) body.

        The worst thing about telling someone, whom you haven't seen in a very long time, that you haven't done anything with your life is seeing the look of easy acknowledgement in their eyes. 
That, they knew you wouldn't amount to much.

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