Life takes away.
Always.
Like it’s never right. Of course, there are times when things are where they should be, but for the most part, they never are.
Ugh—this is all wrong; It’s not the way I had envisioned it. It all meets like a slap in the face, or a punch to the gut. It rips away limbs I didn’t know I had.
I’m always so late. So behind.
But life never waits around.
This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective diary entries, called “Grimoire of a Weirdo”.