Shotgun

Nights like this encourage not-so-pleasant epiphanies because it's like a bullet aiming right straight in my direction, but in slow-mo. Maybe when the epiphanies become reality, will then be the time when the bullet finally hits. But for now, it's insanely scary to view your life as a third person simply because there are so many things that I would wanna warn myself about from the sideline. Shouldn't every life have a coach by the sidelines, screaming moves and encouragement along side with you, throughout the entire game? Even if the moves don't work, it feels much better knowing that someone's with you and that if you lose the game, they'd commend on the right things you did, and suggest better solutions for the failures you have encountered. Shouldn't it be this way?

Instead all that's lurking around is this vision of me swiping the dirt of my bruised and wounded knee, only to be faced with a whole new set of people that are trying to break things down for all the wrong reasons. I don't know their intentions and I don't want to know, I just kinda need someone to stand on the same line as me, I think.

Winning doesn't matter, but what do you do, when the people you love the most value the most invaluable thing in your eyes? How is possible when you claim that you're helping, but everything you're doing is exacerbating this abyss within someone? Is that even possible?

Maybe I should attain a higher level on independence - which to my knowledge, I'm already having issues with social skills at my current level. The walls are kind of a little too high and it's going a little out of control. I don't really know what to do, except to yearn for a roadtrip to the hills, on a classic beige Mustang Convertible.