I want I want I want so much more for myself but I can’t I won’t take it because I want what’s just not quite out of reach. I want I want I want: words spoken by children, where priorities are ranked according to scored selfishness. Minimize the page: a glance looks over a shoulder. Hide the terms you’re searching for: a way out, an escape. Planning, planning, planning in the present for a future: maybe failure maybe fiction maybe folly maybe fame. I have one life: I’m living it. I do alright: I’m moving forward. But regrets are looming asking: why not try for more? Burning bridges. Closing doors. Patience. Pause. Just wait it out: there’s going to be more.
I try I try I’m trying to keep the current a priority, but the current is a small part drifting through open sea. Options appear like exit ramps that are unclearly marked. Take a chance, make a bet, keep eyes open, in the dark. I worry about failure if I make a change turned not for better.
But I can’t fail: I won’t. I have one life’s one path in hindsight’s 20/20. So I can’t fail, but can change directions: by force of circumstance or self-driven whim. I can’t fail, but I can trip, and when I trip, I may fall, but I will stand back up with the knowledge that I simply can’t be broken: I play a part too small. I have one life and things will happen, by choice or simple happenstance. So towards the end, while looking back, I’ve written one long life comprised of only of crossed off What Ifs.