I Thought All I Wanted Was a Happy Meal


Drinking during the nights to pass the day will only leave you hungover. Will it reveal the truth or just more lies?

My world is converging, mentally, physically, emotionally and financially. The struggle is real and the hustle is deep. I go deeper and deeper like Madonna. I hate this feeling. Working 9 to 5, time and time again is supposed to set us up for the win.

Dust settles all over Georgia Ave, due to the construction of a new Mc Donald’s. Those happy meals aren’t making me any happier. I suppose it’s temporary.

Binge watching Netflix, and throwing back copious glasses of wine as time fades, left me dry and groggy.

Another birthday is upon me and I’m no richer. Time is dancing around me and I have no rhythm. I can’t keep myself from questioning what it’s all for? Am I following my purpose? Where is my career going? Is this my future? Or am I just stuck in the past?

I used to cling to advice columns for guidance, anonymous voices on the internet felt comforting by candlelight. Now I write one. I suppose there’s a calmness that vibrates off the computer screen after midnight. I’m not talking about Myvidster.

Communication with friends and family is fractured. And it’s because I have nothing to say. Or do they genuinely annoy me? Fun and fascination are fundamental to my relationships. These mediocre moments, unresolved revelations and familial frustrations weight me down like a bad credit score.

Am I being selfish because I choose to abstain from toxic interactions? I don’t belong to them. I don’t belong to anyone.

Letting go does make things lighter but certainly not popular.

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Love, Walter

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By Love, Walter

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