You keep thinking about how it wasn’t supposed to go this way


You were one of them once.

Full of potential and dreams and ideas bigger than yourself

And now your just desperately grasping at their hopes and dreams

Except you are scornful

You are bitter

Somehow you have ended up in the exact position you always feared

Living with your in-laws

Working full-time

With a fistful of broken aspirations

Like every other cleshe teacher on the planet

You have to believe you are going somewhere

But you remain fearful 

That middle age will bumble along while you got busy and 


You never really committed to your art so…

And sometimes you let yourself feel so sorry for yourself 

you weep or scream in frustration. 

And then feel ashamed and ridiculous

Because you don’t have problems

The anger and the sadness dance together, 

Colour blending 

Soundwaves moving in and out 


Pointlessness peers out of the wrecked epitome of the map you never felt brave enough to decide on. 

 When the waves of emptiness and childish longing


A naive believe still sits below it all

And no amount of adulting can ever seem to stamp out.

The belief is of magic

Of unexplainable occurrences

Of wishes and dreams taking shape

In ways you wanted 

So badly

But didn’t believe you deserved

Because you didn’t work hard enough

Or want them enough

And it just hasn’t happened

Because you’re justnot ready yet

You’re still learning

Learning how to manage yourself

To be strong and wise and less likely to fall into the ego of it all

And maybe I will go on believing in magic ‘till I’m old

Seeing will‘o’whisps were there are none

But maybe


It’s only a matter of time

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