He got a hold of that one!

Going




Going




Going

Gone.

So I decided to swing for the fences, be the hero, play the part.
But I took my eyes off the prize and turned my backs to best friends.
I shot a glance back towards home to see if anyone was looking back... but they weren't.
So I trudged on, alone, but that wasn't the bad part. The worst part was being incapable.
I couldn't do anything, I hadn't finished school, I had nothing to prove, I had no one to risk the fighting chance. I was nothing, seriously this time.
I let the pressure get to me. I thought I played it well, but it knew that I had faltered.
Is it sad that an abstract emotion seems to know how to get to me better than myself?
It knew how to hit me where it counted, but I couldn't tell you where that is on me.
Actually... that's a lie. It's my overwhelming obsession with disbelief.
I don't believe in anything, especially myself, so I guess that... it just believed in me enough to take me down... God, or... actually I don't believe in God, so... Oh, how I wish someone believed in me; I could take the fall and have someone to help me up, not a feeling to throw me into isolation, only to write out what I need to in order to overcome my failure.

I can't believe that I don't know how to.