My words are an extension of myself. I believe that they show what I’ve been through, where I’m going and where I’ve been. Words should be scared to each person; every soul should mean what they say and never take a foul step forward or stumble stupidly over their words into chasms of idiotic choices.  Sure life is depressing and a constant grudge match where it is a giant and you are simply an ant upon his boot, yet people still find will and conviction to go through each day and make ends meet. I find think of people as coins, like a simple quarter. Two sides, and can easily be spun or flipped to land upon either side. Yet they still shine greatly in the lightly and have a purpose. When people gather together they create something worth even more than they are separately. People are dropped and left behind just as all coins are. Yet they are still found somehow and still have a purpose.

Everything has a purpose within its life and existence. I’m having a hard time trying to find my own, while everyone around me is achieving goals and reciting their dream I am simply stuck within cycles of thoughts. I’ve been dropped, I’ve been tossed aside and used and forgotten, yet I feel as if I still don’t have a purpose of some sort.

Perhaps I’m simply a penny within a world of quarters.


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