What Does One Do?!

I Mean, Really Do?!

When You’re “In Love” It Feels Wonderful.

When You’re “In Love” And The Object Of Your Affections Is Also “In Love” You Feel Amazingly Wondrously Wonderful.

When You’re “In Love” And The Other Person Could Honestly Care Less…

…Well…

…You Feel Worthless.

You Feel Defeated.

You Feel Left Alone, Wounded And Dying On The Battlefield.

But, I Am Finding-Out Something I Didn’t Know Already.

The More I Talk About This, The More I Find-Out Almost No One Gets The One They Truly Want.

Truly Wanted, I Should Say.

I Know, For A Fact, That I’ll Never Get “The One” And I’ve Done My Best To Accept It.

He’s Wonderful.

He’s Amazing.

He’s Untouchable.

At Least…

…Untouchable To Me.

So…

…What Does One Do?

Do You Move On?

Do You Continue The Fight?

Do You Throw A Pit Party And Suffer, Just As I Already Have?

What Does One Do?

That Question…

…Sadly…

…Has Plagued My Thoughts.

It Has Done So For A Long-Time, Now.

What Do I Do?

Do I Cling?

Do I Hold-Out-Hope?

Or, Do I Give-In.

Do I Just Accept What’s Handed To Me And Carry-On?

Isn’t That The Exact Same Thing As Being Defeated?

It’s A Nicer Way Of Saying It…

…But That’s What It Means…

…Right?!?

I Hate Being Sick.

It Gives Me Nothing To Do But Dwell.

Dwell On Things I Shouldn’t.

Dwell On Things I Have No Control Over.

Dwell.  Dwell.  Dwell.

It’s What I Do.

It Does Ignite My Spark, I’ll Give It That.

It Makes Me Want To Sit Here And Do Something.

But What Am I Really Doing?

Am I Saying Anything Important?

Am I Saying Anything That Isn’t Already Known?

No.

Not Really.

Maybe They’ve Yet To Be Said In This Way…

…But They’ve Been Said, Nevertheless.

I’m Just A Statistic.

One Among Billions.

One With An Issue Felt By So So Many.

When Thought Of That Way…

…My Issues Seem Meaningless.

And, Honestly, They Are.

The Only One Who Truly Cares About My Issues Is “A #1” Me.

I Just Need To Pull My Head Out Of My Ass And Get Busy, Again.

I’ve Been In There Long Enough.

This Topic, Coupled With My Illness, Has Made For Plentiful Material.

Perhaps Life Will Once Again Accept Me…

…Allowing Me To Sample From Its Day-To-Day Goings-On.

I Think It Will.

Life’s My Bitch.

It Does What It’s Told.

And When It Doesn’t?

I Curl-Up Into A Little Ball And Sob Loudly In The Quiet Corner.

Man Has To Have Some Outlet, Ya Know?!

SURE YOU DO!!

😉       😉

The MRI Is Scheduled…

…So Now I Wait.

I’m A Professional At Waiting.

My Whole Life Has Been A Series Of “Waiting Games” And I’m Sure It Has Been The Same For A Lot Of You.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

It Seems Like All We Ever Do Is Wait.

I Hate Waiting.

I Sincerely Do.

I’m Good At It.

But, I Still Hate It.

I Just Don’t Know What To Think.

Or, What I Should Think?

Or Even, What’s Available To Me In Regard To Thinking?

The Whole Time I Was In The Emergency Room…

…The Whole Time I Was Thinking About Someone Else.

The Doctor, Or Nurse, Would Come In To Speak With Me…

…And All I Was Concerned About Was Him.

How He’d Feel.

My Life, As Far As I Was Concerned, Was On The Line…

…And He Was All I Thought About.

Him.

Of All Things…

…Him.

If The Almost “Stroke” I Had Would Have Finished Me, What Would He Think?

Would It Devastate Him?

Would It Momentarily Cripple Him?

Would He Even Give Two-Shits?

And I Thought About Loving Him.

How I’ve Kept Quiet.

How I’ve Left Him Alone Because I Knew Doing More Than That Would Upset Him.

Does That Make Me Pathetic?

Knowing I’ve Accepted My Role On The Sidelines?

I Don’t Want To.

I Really Don’t.

But It’s “THAT” Or “NOTHING”.

And Between The Two…

…Yeah…

…I’d Accept “THAT”.

ANYWAY…

…The Point Of This Was The MRI.

It’s Set.

It’s In The Computer.

We’re Ready.

I’m Hoping It’s Clean…

…Just The Same As I’m Hoping To Find Something.

Either Way…

…At Least I’ll Know SOMETHING.

To Me, That’s A Preference.

Good Or Bad, I Wanna Know What’s Up.

Ya Know?!

SURE YOU DO!!

“At The Touch Of Love, Everyone Becomes A Poet.” –PLATO

-<<PLATO>>-

-<<<c. 428 B.C. – c. 348 B.C.>>>-

-<<<WRITER>>>-

-<<<PHILOSOPHER>>>-

“LOVE And THOSE WE LOVE”

I’m Calling This Piece…

“LOVE And THOSE WE LOVE“

by BRADLEY ALAN

…Ready???

…

… … …

“I Am In Love.

I Have Been For A Long While, Now.

Problem Is, It’s UN-Reciprocated Love.

Meaning: The Person I Love Does In No Way Love Me.

I Wish He Did.

I Wish A Lot Of Things.

But, This Most Of All.

And Yet, I Know It Will Never Happen.

I’m Not His Type.

He Is Mine.

He Is Mine To A Perfect “T”.

When He’s In A Good Mood…

…As Am I.

When He’s In A Downer Mood…

…As Am I.

He Makes Me Happy.

I Could Only Hope To Make Him Happy.

So Why Even Bother?

Because, I Don’t Know Any Other Way To Be.

I Often Say I’ll Never Be Happy.

That Being Happy Is Something Beyond My Power…

…And For The Most Part, That’s Correct.

I’ve Never Known Happiness.

That Is, Until I Met Him.

He Makes Me Laugh.

He Makes Me Smile.

He Makes Me Happy.

He Makes Me Sad.

He Makes Me Contemplative.

He Makes Me Think About Things I’d Never Considered Thinking.

He Is…

…To ME…

…As Close To Perfect As One Could Be.

I Never Cease To Smile When We’re Together.

And Yet…

…This Love Is UN-Reciprocated.

One Day, Perhaps.

But, Not Today.

Not Now.

Not Anytime Soon.

And That Makes Me Sad.

It Makes Me Sad Beyond Belief.

And Yet, I Cling.

I Hang On.

I Have To.

If I Don’t, It Would Feel Like A Failure.

Another Failure.

I Am NOT A Failure.

He Constantly Reminds Me Of This.

He Reminds Me That There Is Someone Out There For Me.

But, I Don’t Want Someone Else.

I Know Who Am.

I Know What I Want.

I Know What’s Worth Waiting For.

I Know He’s Worth Everything.

So, I’ll Wait For Him.

I Deserve That.

He Deserves That.

And So, I Wait.

No Promises.

No Nothing.

It’s Just A Hope.

Hope Is What I Have.

Hope Is What We Have.

It’s Just Hard.

Hard To Be In Love.

Am I A Fool?

Am I Crazy?

No.

I Don’t Think So.

I’m Just A Man.

A Man Deeply In Love.

Foolish…

…Crazy…

…Love.

Will My Heart Be Broken?

Yeah.

Most Likely.

Do I Care?

Not. A. Bit.

Why?

Because Love Means IT.

Love Is The All.

The Everything.

The One Thing That Trumps The Highest Hand.

And I…

…Unlike Others…

…Am Willing To Suffer For It It.

Always Have Been.

Always Will Be.

Period.

I Just Wish He Felt The Same.

But He Doesn’t.

At Least, Not With Me.

He’s Promised To The Future.

Promised To The Endless Possibilities That The Future’s Willing To Spew-Forth.

He Doesn’t Love Me.

And That’s The Hardest Pill To Swallow.

To Lose-Out To The Unknown.

Does He Know I’m Here?

Does He know I’m Right Here…

…Ready, Willing And Able?

Does He Know I’d Love Him Unlike Anyone Has Ever Loved Him?

Maybe?

But In The End…

…I LOSE.

Ain’t That A Bitch.“

😦