Sometimes,

I feel like I’m stuck in the in-between.

This weird place of progression and stagnation.

The routine and the constant unexpected.

I sometimes feel like I’m grasping for a life raft,

while still sitting on the boat enjoying the view.

Sometimes I feel like I’m dead,

watching it all from somewhere else entirely.

While living the life I’ve always dreamed,

right here and now.

Sometimes I feel like I’m forging my own path,

and other times it feels like I’ll always be a copy of someone else.

But is that so bad?

You’re pretty beautiful after all.

“We’re all stories in the end,” I quote.

But what if my story has been written

time and time again?

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Fingering life

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FOURTH WING AND CHRISTMAS