Sometimes, when I am alone,
That if I don’t succeed,
That if I don’t make it,
I might be doing this for years.
Sometimes I wish I never started.
Sometimes I wish I was well-adjusted,
Or even sane.
I would settle for sane.
I look at the work I’ve done, and
The work I have yet to do and think,
“God, I could be doing this for years.
I could end up alone, and homeless, and unsuccessful and jaded;
I could waste my life and have it equate to nothing.
Or I could just get a profession and play it safe.”
Then I shrug, and keep writing.
Sometimes, When I’m alone,
“God, I could be doing this for years.”
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