Hopscotch

There is this subconscious fear that maybe I would never be wise. The thought that wisdom would entirely elude me is scary, because regardless of my efforts I think I'd be falling and picking up, only to fall and pick up again because I make the same mistakes and as easily as I find myself in a messy tangle, I might as well be tying me a noose.

Perhaps you were right after all. Of the variety of things we say we do for the best of the million other people but ourselves, eventually we'd come to realise that it all boils down to what's best for ourselves. Everyone is selfish, no matter how generous you've accounted your soul to be, because like you said, everyone is for themselves.

You find a fault in selflessness, yet you feel me stubborn for not wanting to see things in your light.

I am selfish as selfish comes.