Poison

I breathe in the toxins of my own pride. My own self fulfilling prophecy that someday I will succeed. That someday I will be someone. I am someone. The corrupter of my own fate. The empty glass that falls to the ground and breaks apart into a million dangerous shards. The quivering hand that writes the letters that spell out "You. Will. Be. Nothing."

I am almost guaranteed to succeed, because I am the saboteur to my own schemes. To my own wishes. To my own dreams. I was not tricked into drinking the poisons of society, mental illness, or the lust to leave behind something. I was born the poison. Spewing out words and wishes of hope to the hopeless. Knowing full well that it is false because to be somebody you must sacrifice. Not time, not money, and not things, but all of who you are. How can that be done when we don't even know who we are?