Sometimes

Sometimes there is just confusion.

Sometimes there is no hope.

Sometimes it feels like there is only failure or closure or your dreams being trampled on.

So sometimes you have to find the strength to keep going all by yourself.

So you come to the white page and are unable to articlate anything clearly. And that’s ok.

Because there are days when defeat must just bloody be.

And sometimes the impossibility of what you want to achieve gets mixed up with how you feel you are a failure.

And sometimes the bitterness comes because everyone else seems to be living their best life.

And sometimes you know that that is not true but today it feels true. As if everything you want is always out of your reach.

And sometimes it’s all so overwhelming that you dont even know where to start so you seek out teachers to show you a path and the path is scary.

And sometimes you feel like it’s all going to be ok and sometimes not.

Someday you are so sure that others will listen when you have something to say and somedays it’s like screaming into the abyss and the sound of your voice is eaten by the void. So do you have one?

And it’s all blank paper and sometimes you wonder why you want to even fill it. What is the story of your own desire? Why do you even want to say anything.

Sometimes it feels like no one is listening and why should they? Sometimes you want to hide in the white spaces where there are no words and sometimes you want to hide behind the black squiggles on the screen.

Sometimes it feels like crises. Everything shut again. Theatres close in London. And a terrible part of you thinks…well what did they expect? This isn’t over. So a part of you is glad and a part of you is horrified that it’s happened again.

But that, sometimes, feels so far away. That life. And you wonder: where did it go? And you look around and want to blame.

And sometimes you just want to be still.

Sometimes you just want to stop the fight. Stop. Go back to the places where all the mistakes were made and unmake them. Perhaps then your life would not be so tarnished.

But this tarnished thing is mine. And sometimes I love it. And sometims I hate it.

Sometimes.

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