Oblivion

Sometimes this life is beyond tiresome,
and mostly all I ever desire is some
solitude,
peace and quiet...
To level my mood;
All I really need is time to brood.
But things move so quickly
and so I'm limited to behaving fickly-
Snatching what solace I can,
as I juggle uncompromising demands...
Unable to "live it up,"
I can only live up to
immovable expectations, and standards of speculation...
No time for thrills,
only for what is promised, and fulfilled.
Far too many untold stories,
and the time's never enough to write them...
My head is full of doubtful worries,
though I stand tall despite them.
If life is the only way to prepare us for dying,
then giving in is inevitable, I'd  rather give up trying.
I'd prefer to say my life's only begun,
than to spend it in fearful oblivion.