Halfway There

 Sometimes I look at you and ponder,

is that who I’ll be in a few years? And I wonder
whether it will all be worth it in the end.

Because I often find myself promising me
not to make the same mistakes that you did.

Then I see that you have not learnt your lesson.
And I promise that I have.

But when I see you breaking yours,
I’m stuck thinking,
if that will be my curse too.

I wish I could tell you to break free of it
so that I won’t have to.

But then I look at you.
I mean, really, really look at you.

And I see that you have chosen your poison.
I have no choice but to accept that.

But I still can’t help but wonder that
when my time comes,
will I repeat history
and choose what you chose?

Or will I finally bring you your anecdote?
But I’m scared that you wouldn’t want it.

But then again, I tell myself
that it is none of my business.

That you have chosen your poison.
And I have mine.

Maybe letting you drink yours is mine.
And I can’t find it in me to search for the cure.
And I know you don’t either.

So now I am left with the same question I began with:
Am I cursed to follow your footsteps
or am I already halfway there?