Hmmm, how to begin? I don't want to sound whiney. and I don't want to sound bitter. Because I really am neither of those things. What I am is tired. Emotionally and physically. I've been running myself ragged these days. To the point where I've lost 8 pounds in as many days. I've been sick. But now I'm better. My car situation still isn't sorted out. And I'm still all mixed up in the head over people and relationships and such. I don't sleep much, and I eat less. all I really do is listen to music, read and work out. I feel like I'm caught in a holding pattern, waiting for something to happen. And I know that this behaviour can't last. soonner or later, something has got to give.

I think a big part of my down-ish mood is the time of year. It's a time of togetherness, and I'm once again alone for the holiday. Another part of it is the events of last winter- into spring. I made a promise, nearly a year ago.
It meant a lot to me. and very little to who I promised it to. But that year is almost over. and I find myself looking back, and remembering all that I had hope for. I was such a fool. Now, nine months later, the labor of patience, has birthed only pain. I find myself wondering what if I had gone? would things be better? would I still hurt this much? What if I had kept silent?

I've come to the realization that I have a bad habit of dreaming impossible things. a tenacity, and depth of patience that is a curse. i dream of belonging. I never will. I dream of hope. There is only dispair. I dream of changing who I am, but I will always be me, always. And yet, it catches me at night, this thought that will not ever let go... what if?

I've taken to looking at myself in the mirror. And granted, I don't like what I see, but i feel all the more foolish, because I can't grasp what it is about me that is so repellant. Not once does anyone ever look at me as a man. This wasn't a problem while I was bound by honor and by word, but now as the end of my period of avoidance draws near, I'm becoming more aware. No one sees me. No one ever will.

I haven't written much poetry, because I didn't want to express the depths of my melancholy. However, no one reads this, and no one checks my gallery, so I'm done with editing myself. from here on, it's all raw, and all truth.