I’m thinking long and hard about it, but where do I really belong? How will I know for sure? A co-worker jokingly said he was switching to a comedian. I’ve been stressed out for too long, my burning desire for success, slimmed to a burning desire to survive, and as they’ve toyed with my emotions for the past 1 3/4 years, my flame will soon wither by a drop of water sliding in from my broken rooftop of a shelter. 

My external locus of control tells me it’s a sign, my internal locus of control insists on blossoming a flower that doesn’t have enough nutrients to bloom. Stuck between pride and fear, my loyalty lies neutral in dismay. The game is ending soon, by choice or not, the next hand must be played.