Confidence, that’s
what they called it. The way you illustrate yourself, the way you present
yourself, the manner in which you walk about shoulders high with giving little
or no value to the opinions of those who surround you.
They called it confidence,
but what they really meant was the acceptance of unfathomable ideas. Like accepting
death just as you would accept life.
What they meant to say was accepting that
the longer you walk, the less distance you travel, the harder you run the
slower you go.
Accepting that it’s never how much effort you put in, but how
much gift you were born with.
And how we’re all just toys in someone else’s
twisted game, each of us playing for the gold.
But what is the gold?
And who
gets the gold?
Certainly not I, for I am nothing but a waste of energy, space
and time.
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