Writings

The Art Of

Desperately I tried to act in a manner pleasing to those around me at the time. Timing was always the issue when suffering through the steps to safety in life. It was like the slime from someone’s feeling about me and what I was going through already lined the steps before I stepped on them. Only to slip and fall on my ass when I go to take that step. Anxious for a chance. I applied to this job. And that job. And thinking of this solution. And that solution. I remember making such small mistakes. Last minute struggles I thought I could make into milestones of success. It wasn’t the right schedule. Not enough pay. Not enough hours. There were rumors. And lies. And all of these issues that I just didn’t want. But then there was pride. The fact that I didn’t want to work in certain environments. Knowing my sensitivity to certain things and how I like things to be done.

DV was a common issue. Albeit, the insecurity of another was something I had to directly deal with. And it was nowhere near easy to get help when I was already having these issues with finding housing in the first place. You would have thought I would have been able to be helped in these scenarios. But it was the little details of rules and regulations that didn’t serve me. Again, time. Timing was everything. And has been everything. A longing in my heart for things to have worked out where I was. The location that I was seeming as if it was perfect. It felt right. It felt progressive. It felt ok. Until it didn’t. In retrospect I would have liked to take the opportunity that presented itself. I remember going into an interview hoping that I would get the job and hearing nothing. Being so stressed because all of my eggs were in that one basket. It was as if I was waiting for the wrong things. I should have been harder and more aggressive. I should have not taken no for an answer.

And all of these feelings compounded. They make me feel as if I am failing at everything. Just barely passing. It’s a feeling of having to take the best route. And you think it’s a good one to take. And then it comes hitting you with a force telling you that it’s the wrong path. Funny how that works. I think there were people around me that thought I was losing my mind. What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you getting your shit together quicker? All of these questions and no answers. People expect you to do it yourself anyways. Pick yourself up. And then when it takes you longer than they expected you’re at their mercy. The mercy of them. They shall give you none if you don’t abide by their time.

Poetic

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