freedom

sad sad sad sorry

I’m so sad I can’t even explain it. I just feel perpetually defeated. Like I had pirates knock down and raid my ship when I was in the midst of building it. I always feel like this. I’m a battle with no weaponry while my opponent charges at me with a tank larger than my desire to fight. But I don’t want to give up because I don’t want to waste any time that touches me. Because right now time has its hands all over me, but as time goes on it cuts parts of itself off of me. The places where my skin is bare of time’s touch frowns at me and sags with unsatisfying memories. I want something more out of everything when I can only manage to get something less. 

I. Feel. Defeated.

And I can’t remember drawing my weapon or being shot down—but I can feel it.