We’re all searching for that bubble,
This little plane of existence,
Something, somewhere, someone,
All our own,
And personal.
It’s a search that spans years,
Bank accounts,
Self help gurus,
And dank dive bars.
You can find it on the first try,
And wonder if this is really it,
Or you can search for eons,
And wonder if it actually exists for you.
Time slows,
Smells intensify,
And loneliness and disappointment become powerful,
Bitter friends.
Remember that we’re all on our own adventure,
Everyone is trudging through their own mud,
And shit,
And some will gasp for air but manage,
While most get lost and end up disoriented,
The rest will happily drown in their desperate attempt,
To find this little bubble all their own.
Before you question it,
Before you wonder if it’s all worth it,
Ask yourself this:
Without the hardship,
Lacking the heartache,
Would it really be that special?
Would you really know the difference?