How many people’s lives are you allowed to ruin
in your own search for happiness?
Surely it is finite
maybe at some point the universe will stop you
but maybe not
You would think there would be a limit to one’s suffering
but it seems there isn’t
The world is always the kid
standing at the top of the slipper slide
waiting to kick you back down
after you’ve struggled
gripped the sides tight
dug in the toes of your tennis shoes
climbing up that slippery slope
to the peak where the happiness seems to reside
you’ll always be the not thin enough adolescent in polyester shorts
whose thighs rub together
who gets made fun of on the playground
and nobody wants to slow dance with in junior high
Your words are heavy with burdens and it draws me into what it may be like if I were to walk in your footsteps.
My mind is cursed with certain memories.