Attack of the cynics

Try as I might, I can’t help feeling that life’s thrown me a fast one and I just missed a save.


Everything around me that has represented solidity, stability, and security crashed with resounding clangs, bangs and slams and I am still choking in the dust of the rubble.

Deep within me, that tiny voice Anemone has been whimpering for days now that I’ve made a mistake

Each night I dream of forests, dark green woods, golden eyes of creatures hidden in bushes. I wake up with the scream of a bazillion wildlife still echoing within my head.

I miss the jungles.

I miss the close proximity of the sea from where I lived and from where I used to work.

Tendrils of regret have slowly crept into the airtight space where I’ve stored my confused logic.

I was determined to think that what I’m doing, where I’m headed is indeed the right way… my true calling… the attainment of my dreams.

But lately, I have started to think that maybe, just maybe… I really didn’t know where all of this will boil down to.

Self-doubt is such a terrible thing to have for company.


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