Boy, Was I Wrong

If one more person calls me talented again, I think I might lose my shit. 

If one more person says I have an unlimited amount of potential, I might flip a bitch. 

If one more woman falls for me because of a damn book, I might have to stop writing them. 

Let me ask you, how the hell is this talented? And how the hell is this potential? How the hell are these words loveable?

It doesn’t make any damn sense. 

This shit, right here, right now, this is my gift?? Typing and talking shit is my talent?? Nuh uh. Not even. I don’t think so, at least. Not really.

Because, if I am naturally talented at this, then why the hell did I work so hard to become great at something else? Why did I believe that hard work was better than talent?? Why did I try to bleed to gain respect???!

I used to resent the talented . . . I thought that working hard to become good at something gave that skill more value in some way . . .

Boy, was I wrong.

-CH 6/22/25