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| Photo By Unsplash |
Clichés fall out of my head, into my hands, onto the paper. Maybe if I scratch my scalp harder, I’ll produce more than dandruff.
All I see are white flakes. Damning reminders that I am nothing more than ordinary. I wonder - am I built to contribute? Or am I only a carbon copy of those around me? Another cog in the machine?
Stuck in a rut. Dirt between my fingernails. Clawing my way out. I miss the climb when it was easy.
Empty. Energy spent. Waiting for someone to toss a monkey wrench.
Maybe that someone should be me?
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