That is Why You Fail.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


- Dylan Thomas

Frustrated. In one word, that is how I am feeling presently. I'm struggling to find my feet. To know what the hell I am supposed to be doing. If I even have a personality, or if I am merely the sum of all the people I admire. This isn't really where I hoped to be at 22, but "we take what we are given" to quote master Kol Skywalker.

At what point does resolution turn into disassociation from reality? At what point is it worthless to pick yourself back up? I'm not sure I know, and I'm not sure I would believe you if you told me.