This Time, My Ass.

Can I just say

how much I fucking hate being an optimist.

I know what you're thinking,

"Hey, that doesn't sound very optimistic to me."

Well, you're damn right.

I can't stand

how every time I know the outcome of something,

there is a small part of my brain that chimes in and says,

"Just wait, this time will be different"

And I get this ache in my soul

that maybe my brain will be right this time.

Maybe this time when I go out, I will meet someone.

Maybe this time, I'll get more likes on my writing,

Maybe this time, I'll get recognition for all my hard work.

AND BIG FUCKING SURPRISE,

IT'S NOT.

It's just never different.

I feel like Charlie Brown in every aspect of my life

trying to kick the football,

thinking that this time Lucy won't be a fucking bitch

and steal it right from underneath me.

It's always the same

and every time, my hopes are dashed.

But yet,

without fail,

no matter how many times I get let down,

my brain continues,

"But maybe this time..."