Ben Bonkoske

I wish I was thirty so I could just have my life figured out already. Deep down, I am so happy that everyone around me seems to be living all of my dreams. At least I am not a wannabe, seeking the approval of everyone else besides myself. Well, technically I’m writing applications that will evaluate me, so I am bending to others expectations that will surely self-fulfill the prophecy of what I really think of me. Another failure day, at my failure life, doing my failure job, so I can die a failure. Something I once heard rung through my eardrums today…The quote, “You’re better than him.” Even I believe it. And so, with a whim of bad luck glimmering like an awaited last breath, I beat on, against the wind, like the miserable sinner I know I am. Words hurt, but I think laughing at somebody’s sorrow is worse. I wish I had the foresight to have prepared a packed lunch instead of accepting old friend requested from the “life’s too short not to laugh” encouragers. It isn’t going to be worth it if you take yourself so seriously. It is going to be lonely when you come to see that all those people are going to leave, and then where will you be? I’m sure thousands of followers will understand, but man oh man, I am ready to burn a fat one. I have nothing to drink worth swallowing. I am convinced I am so terrible because nobody can recognize the beauty that is so afraid of itself. Good health is just a placeholder for an empty shell. I get scared easily, but really, I should believe in myself. There are some things that are worth being misinterpreted because if I ever found the right words, it would diminish the philosophy that emerged. Please bite me albino snake. I would shave my whole head off for a simple mistake. At least I have stayed focus on one thing in my loneliest hours that showers me with simplicity and relief…the blank page, ready to be vandalized by my pain.