...feel like Charlie Brown!
 
Everyday is the same comic strip. No escape. Square panels, 4 walls, all closing in. Over and over. The butt of life's jokes. Life for me so often holds out a football, she's telling me how all my happiness is there for me, the goal is reachable, I can have it all, if I can just kick it, but you know what happens. She pulls it away and I spiral out of control.
 
Someone is always offering great advice, for a price and I know it's a hustle, but just hearing the hustle can sometimes break up the boredom and kill time.
 
There's always the "Little Red-Haired Girl" just out of reach, that's either married, or in another country, but seems like the one for me, the one, the perfect one and she hovers out there and in my dreams making it impossible for me to love the girl standing next to me that wants my love now.
 
There's the friends that are musicians that have talent, do well, but treat you like a security blanket, a shoulder to cry on, yet when you need reassurance they are off playing their music, being happy.
 
There's your best friend, the one always there for you, right? But today he thinks he's Joe Cool, or he's playing war games, or he's buying more things, stuff, toys and packing it away in his bottomless doghouse that he has little time for you.
 
The older, more adult people, the wise ones, the advisers who think they know what's best for me, spout off, pontificating, but I can't hear them because when they talk, it sounds like a trombone with a plunger mute. (woh-woh-woh)