I’ll keep reinventing myself and I’ll keep finding and losing contentedness. I’ll never get away from this but I’ll be fighting it every day for the rest of my life, just the same as I have been. Whatever happens, happens, and however below par I function in one area, I’ll always be that much better at another. I’m accepting that there is no winning, no final buzzer, there is only keeping on until, whatever.
I’m accepting that you finally got sick of it like I said you would when we met years ago.
I said then, “it always ends the same,” now here we are. Nothing changed for me, whatever I’m involved with still turns to stone, and I’m just as alone as I was before I met you; twice as disappointed. I lost my love then I lost the only real friend I had.
This is a cycle for me. This is how it goes for me.