Effort upon effort upon effort I am not waiting upon fortune! He's 27 and has been overwhelmed before, in fact he's been overwhelmed several times before. He's worn several faces and has disappointed and been disappointing. And he hates change. And I hate change. Our lives have been flipped more times than falafel batter on a hungry skillet because we fight change and it likes the attention. I remember a six year old girl called Sehrish teaching me how to glare on a playground nearly two decades ago. I remember how she wore her hair, the color of her dress and where the sun was in the sky. I hate change because I remember. But he's 27 and has learned to forget, or has learned to remember without bitterness. She's 20 and doesn't know that soon she'll be on the verge of forgetting. And they're the only ones I trust enough to hold my hand when I'm loopy so I've realized, in this--I'm alone. Only I am teetering at the precipice with just enough time to feel the pangs of losing potential, and I mean really burying it in the ground; and not enough time to understand this is what happens again and again. You lose momentum, and it's okay, as long as you pick it up again and again. Effort upon effort upon effort. |