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?