fermata

I sob for

something I think I

hate, but cry "no no no"

when asked if I

want to quit.

Because I just can't.

There is no

possible way

that I could quit.

I mean quit?

That's a big word.

Big idea.

And just when I

think that it's too

much for my little

brain to comprehend,

the idea doesn't

seem so bad all

of a sudden.

But the thought

of it still makes

me burst into tears.

Parting with something

that brought life to

my smile for so long,

but now it's just faded.

And sometimes,

I hate it.

I hate what its turned

into, the built up anger

that I think will be

relieved, but really it's

just released through

banging and screaming

every time I make a

mistake. I hate that

it causes me agony and fear,

agony for the present and

fear for the future, but I justify it

by saying that it's not all the time,

even though it really is. I hate that

the passion is gone, the flame quenched,

but I need it to hunger for more, I need

it to yearn for me

and my happiness that

has disappeared.

I hate that

I hate it,

and that no matter

how much I

hate it, I

won't quit. But

the decision will

haunt me from

the back of my brain

until I do quit, because

as terrifying as it

is, it's probably the

right thing.