At times, ever so rare, yet ever so frequent, I find myself lacking competency. There are no visible expectations; a strong breeze forgetting its manners, a cold smack onto my brown cheeks, no, but they are present.
Deep down in a rabbit’s hole, i have met a strange hare who holds on to a pocket watch, and he tells me that i will always be number two. I’d like to feel otherwise, to glisten in your eyes, rather than mote in a slant of sunlight. Time isn’t a great friend, and that is why i chose patience to be my right hand guide. Soon the hare will turn grey and his watch will stop ticking. I will no longer be number two.