Sorry, Finish Line is The Other Way

What's the point? What's the point? What's the point? What's the point? What's the point? What's the point?
I'm never gonna make it, aren't I?

No. I will not back down. Ridiculed and alone, yet I'm still standing. I drew my breath sharper, letting the cool air fill my lungs. I readied my stance, preparing for an attack. The grip of my right hand on my ever loyal sword tightened. Although I am the only one in the world believing this, I will never back down.

Or so I thought. I put my pen down, exhaling slowly. Yet another fantasy, and then back to reality.

I keep avoiding things that I should take responsibility of. I dream of nightmare when the thought occurs, but only when I encounter its remnant or the trace of existence. It's an everlasting homework with prolonged deadline that I stack and leave rotten in the backyard, to be wet with rainfall and singed by the sunlight.

"What have you been doing this past year?" that question kept lingering and smacking the back of my head like a guilt sledgehammer.
I think, all I've been doing this past year is slacking off... but also acquainting myself with the cold reality beyond the classroom walls.

The question trailed off. My mind was a blur. My ears were ringing. My hands shaking.

Ah, I can't deal with this anymore... One question and I was already about to burst into tears. I'm weak.

And weaklings don't get to choose the way they die.

-

I know that the right thing to do now is to work on the stuff that I abandon, and starting now. Soon. Pronto.
I need to assembly the material before the end of this week.
I have to catch up with my task.
I ought to consult on my difficulties instead of bailing.
I should pick up that phone and book another psychologist consultation.
I got to grow up and get my shit together.

Easier said than done. Despite a hundred reasons to improve better as a person, I still can't get out of the bed.
I wonder how long it would take for me to realize this living model does not make any sense?
I wonder when will be my turning point in life to think, "hell, I should act now!"

I haven't been sober. I'm still resisting, refusing to see things clearly.
I wish I was sober.
Maybe, another cry.
Maybe, another cut.
Then I'll cope. Then I'll sober up.

That... never happens, does it?

When will I ever stop running the wrong direction?