how many new beginnings can there be?

Night falls and you’re embarrassed, again, because of regrettable actions that only make you look bad. They’re on the other side, laughing, sneering at you and your forgettable words, your forgettable ____, you’re forgettable to them tonight. And you didn’t quite picture it in your head like this. It was supposed to turn out better, you were supposed to receive a standing ovation…an encore…but all you get is laughs.

Actions are fine…smooth motions that you thought you could get away with. Everything plays out like you want it to until someone calls you out on your game. That’s always the problem, right? Those blunt, open, frank people who always call you out on it. Whether good, or bad, your game is up. Everyone knows your secrets. There’s no hiding out here now. play the game. Constantly, falling into the trap of attempts at alluring others. Failure or success, who knows? But I’m quite done playing the game.

Like Bartleby from Melville’s quite terrifying story. Maybe I’ll just prefer not to the next time things come around, and another chance at playing the game tempts me. But who could resist, tonight?