The False Finish, Maybe...?
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Seems to have began again.
Cloudy, gloomy, cognitive dim
(Am I grown—or just tired of the start?)
Imagined the stars within reach of a pinch,
Conformity failure the unforgivable sin.
The forelock—lying, sinful forelock.
Excited, started, decided—who cares?
3/4 of the way, maybe someday again.
Reminded, Rewinded, excited again,
The perpetual verdict: "He never has had have finished a thing."
(Is it innate—or have I just learned to quit?)
Only, everything hits harder when its in the forefront;
The tactical blindness—Object permanence, the saving grace.
Bought the house, laid with the spouse, societal norms.
Germination, procreation, raised these kids of my own.
Is that the paramount? Now have I grown?
The one hard truth thats come to known;
Yes, everybody lies—save, I know where my fractures lie.
Is it only treatment to get by, day and day?
Or a cure found alone at the end of the days?
When the erasure stops, who is left behind?
Certain to die still at the starting line, will I never arrive?
When the erasure stops, who is left behind?
If eternity is the final place,
Will the resets continue to replay ?
The end?
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The Architect’s Note
I wrote this in the space drifting between waking and sleep. It’s really an audit of own last 15 years. We’re taught that 'Maturity' is a destination—a house, a family, a career. But for the ADHD brain, those are often just biological and societal autopilots. Internally, the 'Rift' remains. I’m a 'Paramount' father on the outside, and a trade-school dropout on the inside. I’m questioning if the 'Reset' ever actually stops, or if we’re just 'Certain to die at the starting line.' This is the False Finish.