Quarter Life Cry

May 24, 2018

It’s a daily struggle to attain bravery, but they beat that out of my ancestors during slavery…now their past is running up to me. I feel like there is nothing you can say to me; these irrational thoughts have produced some fears within that have been slaying me. They’re steady playing me, and now I feel like I need therapy. I believe my life has a great responsibility, so I’ve been exercising my ability to respond to adversity. Right now you‘ve never heard of me. Before then I have to get my mind right; my anxiety kicks in when I think I’m in the limelight. I’m supposed to be in my prime right? I’m 25, quarter life, and now it’s do or die. Sometimes the pressure has me cry; but after the sack cloth and ashes I must arise. I felt depression in her vibe as I watched her teary eyes and shouldered the regression of her mind. I believed she was one of a kind, but when I pondered it her heart started in a different place than mine. I started where we left off. You started with the pain from the other guy. You ran from the pain to me the “good guy”, but I just couldn’t remain soft while you scoffed and mocked as my emotions remained aloft. I ordered in a Mocha Latte, and it came to Skins spot with a crop top. No drip like cherry popped, but the fare for that guilty trip cost me lot.
No one is concerned; no one‘s watching me, but I feel like I‘m under high scrutiny. What do I do? I get a tat and some jewelry. Two faced Christians are no longer fooling me. The difference between you and I is I will wear my “sins” out on my sleeve. My own rationale won’t even get through to me. Before you hear my eulogy, I just want you to hear this quarter life cry from me.