Hello, my old heart. How have you been?
Are you still there inside my chest?
I've been so worried;
you've been so still,
barely beating at all.
Often I really wish I could put all of my thoughts into a jar and lock them up for safekeeping. My problem is that I think too much. I over-analyze unimportant details and ignore those I should deal with. It gets too much for me to handle, so I panic, I run away without thinking of the mess I'm leaving behind. On the road, I go to war with myself and the damage done leaves me with bloody scars. I'm tired and I'm sick of being tired. I still don't quite like who I am, but if anything, I know change is an extremely slow and painful process. But most of all, I'm exhausted from wanting things and people I can't have - constantly walking on the edge, trying to find meaning for the meaningless.
