#149

I had my hopes up.

I really did.

Maybe it was the addiction welling up—
that sort of dopamine kick,
that feeling of pleasure,
that drive.

I really felt it all.

The high.

In the end,
without ever achieving my goal,
I am left filled with exhaustion.

There is a reason why I am doing this,
but—

is there a reason
for me not to achieve what I want?

Haven't I done enough?

Is my prayer not enough?

Or am I just unworthy?

I am broken.

I am broken.

I am broken.

What is there left to observe?

I've been praying.

And I'm tired.

Maybe this just serves me right
for believing—

believing that one day,
one of my prayers,

one that I needed most
right now,

would finally be given.

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