All my friends are famous

Even though they were never my friends in the first place, it’s like watching the whole world blow up around you while your dead stuck in the middle.

I have no motive to be where they are or even surpass it. Spending warm days and late nights roaming for the least bit of recognition, I lived it. Not only did I live it, I craved it. My whole life in fact.

And now, I lay here;

staring out frosty windows praying for snow.

I get scared when I think of finally moving to LA because knowing me I may fall back into old habits.

I see my self in places I don’t belong, talking to people who only look twice because I’m pretty, handing out cards of a business I abandoned a long time ago.

But I still search the ads of Craigslist in hopes they’ll take me in.

And I scroll through the photos of long lost friends who have more digits in followers than they do in their bank accounts and sigh that I never made it as far as they did because I gave it all up too soon.

That side of me still exists and maybe always will but I’ve seen a better place. A road less traveled by, but I swear it’ll make all the difference.


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