I dedicated my life to something very very stupid and it didn’t pan out.
I quit, because it was dumb. So now…
I’m having a crisis about it instead.
It’s a full-time job now.
Wanna hear a poem about it?
–by Becky WTGH
What if I stopped?
What if I started…!
What if I quit?
What if I re-routed?
When do we stop?
Stop what we started
I tried to restart it
but I couldn’t resist.
I gave all I had
to this madness I started.
A madness that lasted
for an age, since a birth.
I’ve known who I was since before I knew jesus
and I’ve gotten to know him since–
he sucks. I should’ve been spending my time
getting to know myself.
I spent all this time trying to be something amazing.
Something that others told me I was.
It didn’t pan out, see now
I’m having a crisis.
It’s what the fucking poem is about.
I knew what I was before I turned 14
I had it all decided.
I set out on foot to journey towards this real me
this version I knew I could be.
They all told me I couldn’t
and I kept doing it anyway
I took this as proof that I wasn’t a fool
but the longer I waited and the more I committed
the greater my doubt grew.
I should be ashamed
to have failed so intensely
I’m away, now
lost as sea
lonely, but don’t ask–
I fell in love with an idea of myself
that could never be.
She is dead and–now
it’s just me.
I’m having a crisis
how do you call an ambulance
for a dead person sitting inside you.
I can feel her rotting
she died peacefully, unaware
working herself to death
for a dream that she was meant to fail.
I never told her that we failed
when I took the pill and killed her, the part of myself
that knows deep down
we were always quitters.