On days like this, it is
An effort not to be bitter,
Even though I know that
The lives I envy are not
Ones I actually want to live.

Perhaps bitterness is a drug,
A habit I can’t kick,
No matter how good my life is
Or how happy I really am:
I feel the absence of longing
And try to fill the vacuum.

Perhaps the problem is
That there are many lives
I wish I had lived before
I finally made it to this one,
Rather than the ones littered
With monuments to my folly.

Or perhaps it is me.
Perhaps I need to work out
What I actually want
Rather than what I once wanted,
And learn to be brave enough
To try to make it happen.

Maybe then my bitterness can
Become a memory, something
To look back on rather than
Relive, something to write about
Rather than feel over and over again.

02/05/2026

Posted on 08/29/2026
Copyright © 2026 Richard Vince