it’s frustrating to try to fix a part of your life, only to find that some other part has moved past you.
i’m starting to think that i’m doomed to running after things, always just trying to catch up to people and places long gone and moved on. i’m really tired of pushing this boulder up the fucking hill only for it to roll back down again, as if with one step forward i’m still two steps behind everything else.
i wouldn’t mind it if it wasn’t so persistent. the feeling of inadequacy creeps up on you like a fog, consuming and surrounding, legs moving blindly in the bright white.
i forget how taxing it is, the process of cementing your place in someone else’s radius. at this point it’s not jealousy, or anger, or even frustration– it’s the droop in your gaze, the slight slouch of my shoulders, the chill and the kind of tired that seeps under your skin, nestling in your bones, filling your veins.