I think ive gotten too used to cruising through life, so much so that ive forgotten how to pedal the gas, and pursue the things I really want
I keep telling myself to wait, for a better time, that next week, month or sem will be the opportune time, but ive missed too many, waited for spring to find the trees falling off the leaves again...
to come back for my bounty, only to find it claimed by another...

Letting every chance to live pass me by
I keep telling myself I don’t really know what I want, but even when I do, I think Im too used to acting like I don’t
I think im too scared, too caught up in wanting to be nice…
what am i actually afraid of?
their glances their glares
making a fool of myself?
of losing things, ive nvr really owned?
what is this reaching out yet recoiling in trepidation...
to fear the familiar and the unknown
why am i still here...
a place strange yet too much familiar

we never really do change do we
we grow up
grow stronger
grow older
grow wiser
but still the same demons and skeletons
still a small insignificant blip on the radar
the trivia on the bottle cap

But nobody remembers the nice amiable, amicable guys; the footnotes
I want to be missed, I want to be remembered… maybe im being narcisstic here, but at least im being honest.