I can’t do it all. I can’t excell at all of that, not even close.
A part of me wants to rant about it. Another part of me tells me I should just suck it up and shut the fuck up. Some distant part of me feels sorry for myself but then the part saying I should suck it up speaks louder. A whole lot of other parts include a bigass rainbow of feels about it.
In the end, when the day is coming to an end, all of the parts want one very simple thing. For you to hold me close, to hold me tight. To tell me it’s going to be fine. How very simple and how very far away.