Unreal

It's unreal, the way it's all going. It's almost like yesterday I was building tree forts with my friends, and now very soon, I'll be fucking them. I never thought I'd have to look at things from my stepmother's perspective, but it seems as though in life it's inevitable.
I'm seeing the same people, the same situations, played all over again, and... am I still the same person? Everything looks completely different from this angle.

A: He's in love with someone toying with his heart, and he's trying to set up a bridge before stepping off the boat. No one can blame him, it's human nature, after all. His weakness lies in his kindness and leniency, it's why he's trapped in adolescence for eternity. Never ageing, or so it seems. A sharp mind, nevertheless, yet keeping that innocence. It's always painful for his kind to survive.

B: He feels trapped in a decision made in haste, with a child and its mother to tend to, he stays out late. With a lack of friends in whom he can confide, he flails wildly. He's aged about two decades too fast, and still can't seem to find his feet. He doesn't want to be an asshole and leave his son, to go off on a new life of his own. Some other kind of weakness, and yet he strives not to show any at all.

Do I play the second chance?
Or have some fun with it?
Are my interests considered here at all?



It goes against my ethics, but I feel tempted.
Perhaps I should just write a book.