If it was by merit, then I cannot complain. If it was by chance, then I cannot complain.
But I guess the question becomes: what if it was by merit, and my merit was assigned to me by chance?
Hope, or the list of things I do not consider impossible.
My analysis of that list does not exceed noting that they’re possible at any time that isn’t now.
There is a limit, though, when there are enough writings, and enough memories. There can be too many possibilities and too many possible times.
Persistence, or grit.
We were solid as a rock. Emotionless as a rock. Expressionless as a rock.
Only immense heat and pressure could make something so solid yet so dull.
As the sun rises, as I see the skin of my hands, as it gets more and more difficult to fall asleep, it pains me to realize that today is not the day. I am keeping count, you see, on the wrinkles of my skin.
I’ve hoped for so long, and I am starting to doubt.
When will it ever happen?