Selfless

Sitting amongst the silence, and between the empty sheets. I keep my eyes occupied, and my thoughts wandering.

Now that everything has perceivably changed, what am I supposed to do?

What exactly should I keep my thoughts dialed into, when there isn't you to think about?

Since now, now I have done exactly what I had tried to keep myself from doing for so long. 

I tried to keep myself from feeling exactly, nothing, but nothing at all. 

There is this constant fight I don't feel I will ever truly know the answer to. 

Is it easier to be empty, or to be hurt? 

To feel nothing at all, as opposed to longing. 

When those feelings of inadequacy are the only ones that you know are real. 

And trying to find an avenue to channel them is the hardest part of my day.

A portion of my summer I concluded in the discovery that I was happier empty, than hurt. 

It truly felt better to feel voided of nothing, than to feel voided of everything painful. 

Then that preconceived consummation changed, it morphed, or adapted. 

Then I started to believe that emptiness was longing, it was longing to feel something. 

All I wanted was to feel anything, but I had drove myself so far, so deep down into my own shell, that it was nearly impossible.

Impossible all but for one small human being existing on this earth, that could change all of that. 

So I pressured my way through, I locked myself inside rooms, drove out to the middle of no where and proceeded to enjoy my silence.

As I knew it, I was killing myself. 

The self I thought I was trying to find, the person that for many years was locked behind doors, was not being let out. 

That person, was just sitting in the middle of the living room floor, covered by a mask. 

What is worse, is I lied. I lied to myself, and I lied to everyone else. 

I am not strong, and I do cry. 

Despite what my notions at times may prove, I am human.

And I tried like hell to prove that I wasn't. Because humans' feel, and I didn't want to feel.

I wanted one thing, and one thing only. 

And he was unavailable, at any length of communication, completely, and utterly unavailable.

Now that this time has gone on, and most everything has changed dramatically. 

Closure has finally been sought, and I sit here trying to find something else to boggle my mind. 

Something else but him.

Because that was not healthy, as much as I assumed that it was the only thing there was to do. 

Alas, it was not. I understand this now, but accepting it is going to be the hardest venture. 

Now what do I do, who do I think about, what do I long for? 

Am I back at square one, sitting alone on a desert floor board in the middle June. Hiding away under padlock and splinter?

I guess this is just the beginning, as last year was the beginning to a long and drawn out year of mistaken emotions. 

This is the beginning of the out process, for good, and for last this time. No fake outs. 

Just the finale. 

Maybe my mind will clear up for other things. 

ahhh, but what? 

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