Standing Still

When I was a kid, I needed everything to go my way. If I wanted something, I became tunnel-visioned with only the end goal. It didn’t matter if it made no sense or that along the way a pivot in navigation was necessary. I knew if I got what I wanted, I would be happy. I was kind of nuts. It was simply my way or the bloody highway. And I wouldn’t quietly wish this, no, I would make it known. I would stomp my feet on the ground, I would be dragged out kicking and screaming, and I would fight to the death. So what if I was