Wrong Writing

At the end of the day. You start to think about the beginning. The doers and the takers. And while I think it’s crazy of me to believe I’m maturing. I do understand I’m writing my own wrongs. Moving from place to place because I get bored, isn’t ideal. Knowing I followed my dreams, and then shattered it in several months makes me question my morals. I had it all, the missing piece was my own satisfaction, always finding something wrong. Always finding fault, always wanting to keep up with the Joneses. The career path that kept up with my needs and a life that seemed great. Take a second and smell the roses… It’s fertilizer and you realize that shit, makes your garden better… Enjoy the moments while you can… Regret isn’t a friend to age, it’s a slave to minds not able to move on a forward… Rebuilding is ideal that’s what I do, settling down. Becoming a mature person… Building extensions not rebuilding is what I need to invest in. I have invested in… The thoughts evade me… The thoughts escape me…



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