My life is just a series of falling in love withs. Books, movies, Dan, babies, toddlers, cooking, singing…
My life is just a path towards one thing, then the next, then the next. Why did I stop here or there?
My life is just a hesitation, an afterthought,
My life never really was until now, never will be until it is now again.
Does my life equal something or is it unequal to anything?
Who is what my life is? Is it me, or someone else pretending-?
I don’t belong here, don’t we all?
Give me back what I need; to know that my life is after all.