There's a hole inside my boat. I need to stay afloat for the summer.
It took me by surprise. A sin that has been forgiven twice had resurfaced like the changing tides. History has rewritten itself through my arteries all over again. I am unable to fight it, moreso avoid it. Just as when I was on the winning momentum, a wrong slab was taken off my Jenga, collapsing my intricate, yet near-stable tower of progress. I had the words "Rickroll" jotted down on my face.
To say that one needs freedom to fall and suffer is something I could not understand. How does one let that happen to the ones they love? How does one let them suffer themselves and not share the burden? Why let a good thing go to nothing?
Do I still fight? Would I still fight? Should I still fight?
I am only armed with a peashooter today. I do not have an automatic rifle, I am no David that has the luck of hitting Goliath on the head in one shot. I have failed so many times with the same tactics before, humiliating myself everytime with the same results. But not letting myself fight is unmanly, because a man should do all that he can to protect and satisfy his woman to the best of his abilities.
I'll get my strength up. I'll keep my hopes up. Today is not the end of the world, not unless I say so. I will get what is mine, and I will do it in my own way. I will not linger on the floor while I'm down. I will get my future wife, and I will get her kid with me too. All I have to be is myself, and I will also be loved the way I want to be loved.
I will not lose them like how I lost those who came before them. I will accept no lesser result.
