When I wish I was more like other people

There are days when I wish I was more like other people. These are the days of my more careless thoughts that lead—inevitably—to my rediscovering the big fuck-off self-interrogating fence that encircles and ensnares my mind and throws me back with terribly pertinent questions like:

• which people?
• do you mean be like them or be them?
• do you think if you were (more like) them you could appreciate whatever it is about them that you appreciate from here? 
• don't you value the investment you've already made in learning to live as long as you have as you? 
• will you never remember that when you choose to be more like them, then you’re still only yourself anyway?
  

So, I have these days where my careless thoughts bolt at crisp horizons and smash into pristine glass liminal planes, crumple there on foundations—momentarily—and then carry on, simply unable to admit even the stumble to the small degree required to enable a puff of pride from the recovery. 

These people I could be more like, they

• bare their souls
• hit their marks
• reach their goals
• pack a punch
• hug their friends
• die just a little bit inside 
• sing in front of strangers
• think most things comes in threes
• answer questions with answers
• ask questions with answers
• follow every beat of their hearts with the next
  

These people I could be more like exist for days when I think I could be more like other people.

//ends