I've spent years of my life waiting for some kind of grand revelation to dawn on me. I'm starting to think it's not coming.
I see back through time. How at every juncture, I feel like I'm getting there... almost confident, almost self-assured, almost able to support myself(more), almost good enough for _____ to finally love me. Then I look around at where I am and I've hardly gone anywhere, and the people I'm hoping to catch up with are farther away than ever. I see how years of my life have slipped by unnoticed, like spilled milk or spoiled bananas, and the best I can do is say "whoops, I fucked up again! Time to toss this batch and hope, despite the mounting evidence to the contrary, that I'll get it right next time.
I'm not any closer to the life I've always wanted. If anything, I'm getting farther away. What I am close to, perilously, dangerously close-- is losing everything, because it's going to be too late to salvage anything from this wreck of a life very, very soon. (less)