I thought about quitting the other week. Like crumpling dreams up and throwing them into the trash bin becoming another has been, past tense that has went wayward with the wind cause took too many losses and not enough wins.
I thought about quitting the other day. Like I turned in a 2 week’s notice a month ago for my dreams cause I hadn’t received any benefits and been clocking in 80 hour weeks, all work and so little sleep. Not counting sheep or counting Zs but more so counting worries.
I thought about quitting the other hour. Confronted with thoughts of a coward, cowering at the fear of what the future may appear to be or not to be. That’s the question that is incessant, a constant force of digression from any course or direction my mind’s attempting to head in.
Im thinking of quitting this very second. Like what’s the point of going on when you don’t know the outcome? But out comes a glimmer of hope in the most unexpected shouts from the whispers of inspiration in the most subtle of places. I’m thinking of quitting, but am currently glad that I didn’t.