When I was a teen I told people that I wanted to be bum, and by the time I entered college, I thought I would be dead by 23. No reason, just couldn’t see or imagine my future. 23 came and went and the future seemed possible simply because everyone I knew was broke and still waiting to make real moves, or so I thought.
Mediocrity is my operating system. Being white, cis male in America, the definition of mediocrity, the future is not for me. Yet I’m still here, failing into the middle. The middle of success, the middle of happiness, the middle of satisfaction, the middle of life. An ineffectual contributor, despised by many, loathed by more. I know, stories we tell are stories not truth, but I haven’t found any other story. I’ve tried to make moves and all lead to no, so what story am I left with but this.
We’ll try again tomorrow cuz that damn sun keeps coming.
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