I’ve said it all before.
The pain, the anguish, and every single cliché emotion a person could feel.
I’ve felt it. And I’ve said it.
It’s a cycle, and you would think it would be easy to identify all the wrong turns and avoid them the next time.
But it feels out of control.
Every. Single. Time.
It’s like being on a merry-go-round that someone else is spinning.
You might want to stop, to get off, but how can you?
You’re not the one in control.
And even if you did get off, the next time you go to a park, you might have forgotten what a rotten time you had and get back on again. Willingly.
And by “you” I suppose I mean “me” here.
How is it that I always seem to manage to maintain the arrogance of someone who has it all figured out, yet inside, if I really think about it, I am just a fool and a coward who will always settle for a portion of what I could have.
I mean, that’s more of a statement than a question.
The more I think about it, the more I wonder how many times I could have had control but refused to take it.
I choose to let people take what they want from me every time.
It’s killing me but I choose it.