You choke on your dreams and aspirations. You cant swallow the bitter pill that is reality. You breathe and live. You’re existing but never living.
You lay awake at night. Thinking. And thinking. All the could-have-beens and should-have-beens that plague your thoughts. They become the very essence of your being. They stick to your skin and sink to your bones. They flow in your blood and become the air you breathe. And you choke on them, your dreams and aspirations.
And you feel like you’re in a little box. And you can not breathe.
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Bookish Endeavors 