I watched their lives move smoothly as mine shatters uncontrollably,

Rapidly speeding time as I panic more.

One bounced to earn a master’s degree; others built houses.

While I sat on the corner with paperworks I couldn’t read— a familiar decision, I fear to look

They spoke flawlessly, “By twenty-five,

I’ll get my ring and the land I promised,”

Others laughed as they spoke,

“By next month, my dream house will be built.”

While I stared at their lines—a straight line,

“Why does mine feel tangled with others?”

I brought the same bricks as theirs,

but their houses don’t look as dark as mine.

Brought the same pillow as theirs,

but their night doesn’t scream like mine.

“Is my house haunted or is it my mind?”

Clock ticks loudly,

with each hour feeling like a second I’m losing.

Followed their path to catch them at the party.

But why do I still feel late to the party?

Each piece I stole from them feels like a trick.

They walk with comfortable backgrounds,

while I walk in shame—ashamed of me envying others

and shame of what I took from others that I couldn’t build.

I wonder if beneath their polished voices,

a scream each night that no one else can hear.

But they fought it without fear or doubt,

not like mine—I hid in fear, letting doubt eat what was left of me.

Maybe the bricks were never meant to match,

or straight lines weren't the only way out.

Perhaps at the end of my tangled path,

a future that’s finally cleared itself out.

“Am I finally building the path I was looking for?” I whispered in the dark, letting my fear be free from its shadow.

Finally breathing out of it.

The Frontman