Car Wreck

It feels like the things I fear always come true, so much so that I don’t want to name them here or even out loud for fear that it might bring them fully into being.

But this is comparable to a car wreck, I feel like I’m going to hit a brick wall. I can see it speeding toward me—there’s no way it could move itself (or so it would seem, at least in my situation). And yet I’m surely going to hit it. I’m going to crash and its all going to end.

Sometimes I wonder if there was really ever another way things could have turned out and feel stupid for trying. No matter how hard I work, I’ll just never be some things. It’s the sad fact of life that an overly politically correct.

Though I wonder: is it sad when I truly, whole-heartedly believe that much chances of becoming a published author with some clout are more likely than my finding happiness or love?

I’m not sure what’s worse, the fact that I feel like that or the fact that I care so much. Both seem to be causing equal amounts of pain.