I'm awake right now. Thinking my brain into mush. Being vulnerable to hurt and the pain of loss. I bury myself in the past and the closed doors behind me. It's me taking one step forward and two steps back. Opening doors to look in on things that have already happened. My heart is stuck in the memories of things that are better than the lonely moments that crowd around me. They try to get into my pockets and travel with me to unknown destinations. I will empty my pockets, the things left wet and torn in the washing machine. Just trying to get myself clean of this ball and chain attached to my shoulder. I carry my heart on my sleeve. I size up my options every chance I get. It's something I can't help myself from doing. Being open to an experience that can color the next period of my life. It's sad to me and I feel like I'm getting nothing done. I can do nothing but talk to anyone that will hear me. I want to stop and ask myself those questions, remember the answers of why things haven't continued the way I want them to. Find some reason why I never get exactly what I set my entire being to accomplish. It all falls away. It all goes downhill at certain points. I ask myself do I need to loosen my grip. To find some enjoyment in the small things that are considerably more important and can fit in a much smaller box. I've lost a couple of those boxes in the process of moving forward. Shall I find them again? Can we get to another time when we actually care for the well being of someone other than ourselves. Can we make the sacrifices necessary to make another person smile? I feel the need to see your smile again cause it brings joy into my heart. It's addictive isn't it. Laughter and joy. Something to never replace. It's what makes us human, the ability to show emotions and to express in words exactly how we feel. I will travel for another day. Never looking again for another to tell I love you. It will have to find me, which in turn is fine. It sneaks up on me when I least expect it anyway. I count the fingers on my hand to the number of people I've told those three words. And actually meant it. I remember them one by one. A period in my life, all of them. They each are a story to tell anyone that might be interested. They fill my imagination, giving me more and more to write down on paper and any other format that I might use. I should thank them for the heartache, the pain, and especially the joy. Which in turn, they sit in silence, back turned and never realize what lie in front. I can't do this anymore. My emotions have ruled for far too long. I will put a lock on that door, never letting anyone in until I am ready. How many will pass by before I feel it necessary to peek out, back into a world that falters. How long after you've destroyed yourself will you come looking for a good man? Someone that is not afraid to feel. To show his emotions and to do those things that have been set in stone for how long. Chivalry is dead, or at least put away until you grow past the point when you want to do everything for yourself. So damn independent, you don't need a good man anymore. But to those that do, good for you. We will let you be vulnerable and catch you when you fall. Here's my shoulder to cry on when you lose something important to you. I give into the feelings that overwhelm me. I want to show you how I feel but you will never let me will you. I sleep in your bed and hold you when the lightning comes, the thunder crashing. I see you through candlelight and tell you that you are the most beautiful of all. I smile, pausing to think of you, and the mask that you will wear everyday for the rest of your life. I will see you on the street and I will remember the moment you told me you loved me. I will say hello and all that will be left is the stranger you will have become.