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!!

😉       😉