Expectation set high. I'm suffocating in the top drawer. I'm crawling at the base while divergent people reach the summit. Quicksand engulfs my body and mind. I'm at the bottom but still I reach for something to grab. Darkness darkness darkness, failure a cold soul, a pecimest, and still I'll latch on to anything I can find. Something grazes my fingers it's minut it's made out of wood and there's a small glimmer of hope. Hope presents itself eternal. Hope can save but hope can also kill. A number two pencil lifts me out of the murkiness and back to the shallow. I'm no longer six feet deep. I get up of my knees and begin the climb that so many of us attempt in life. The fork in the road approaches once again and once again I choose my own path, and I hope it's everything I'd hoped it would be