Someone. Anyone.

Here is the story of a person.
Anyone big enough to be somebody.
Or a nobody who could be anybody.

That someone liked to start things,
But never finished them — a
Project that could take over  a few hours
to finish was not worth starting.
But of course, because that someone loved to start things,
The length of the project couldn’t stop the motion
of her flings.
At some point, that someone simply got bored,
Gave up, or talked herself down,
Afraid of becoming somebody with the risk of
losing everybody.
Afraid of being a nobody who could become anybody because
Anybody was too many somebodies.
At the end of the day, all that someone is left with
Is an ocean of choices where everything seems too big
to achieve by
A nobody, or not satisfying enough for a somebody.
But that someone should know,
The ocean is just one vast, flat space of blue
With a few gradations of hues.
Its middle is a trap awaiting to swallow somebody, anybody,
And its shores: respectful allegories for someone’s… anyone’s
Lack of courage and sense of adventure.
Either way,
Someone’s heart remains captive,
Tamed by the monstrous waves of the ocean
Or by the green monster that is envy for the life of
Somebody and nobody who could become anybody.
In the end,
That someone is bound to remain a nobody;
A ghost luring the surroundings,
Spying on anybody who is somebody,
Gazing at the lives that could have been.
In other words, that someone could disappear and
nobody would notice, not even that
somebody whom she once treated just like anybody.
That someone will remain faceless. Lifeless.
Given a beginning with the opportunity to become somebody,
Anybody, really.
The only upside is that this someone
Finally reached an ending,
Deciding to be a nobody.

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