The cost of your mind...

But the sun's going to go ahead,

and tag right up,

and we don't understand,

what we're standing on,

and we sure come in blind,

with our timing. 

So I've culled what I can't tame,

I have taken all that I can take,

It got bad enough.

You couldn't write this...

I'll put my guard down for you...

He imagines giving up. No more peering through windows, mourning the loss of a life that could never again be his. No more hopeless desire. No more uncertain future. No more terror. Then he wakes up.

Now, it felt like every day a new oozing pustule of emotion came glopping out. One day it was a goopy mass of abandonment issues. Then there was the gelatinous muck of hyper-independence weighing down my proverbial galoshes. The steaming, writhing mass that was my identity crisis was particularly pungent some days. It had come to my attention the hard way that for years my coping mechanism had been to numb myself; turn my emotions off completely. Any that snuck through were instantly squashed under humor, deflection, or anger. A perfect plan, until that damn straw had hit the camel's stupid back.