I had arrived in this place with such high hopes for what I would find. I guess they were more of unrealistic expectations than anything. The grass is always greener... you know. All that bullshit that we feed ourselves so that we keep going and are never really happy with where we are. I had seven cups in my backpack but was only pouring one drink.
I had no fight left in me. Nothing. It was all gone. Sure, somedays I could dredge up some weak attempt, but it wasn’t the same. There wasn’t any fire or any passion in it. And I couldn’t sustain that for long at all.
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