Squeezing out the tears

Like a pumpkin scraped of its guts, my bones really do rattle from the core and outwards. Each day does not get easier,...the loss, the loss is what it is. And everything before then. If I had a record book to keep all these thoughts and feelings inside, the corrective measures are the fanciest part, you should try them.

Looking back at simply not being able to see, though squinting, that someone might be listening...I simply could not comprehend it. Among the list of the many sins I do own, and use regularly. Trying to stay afloat in a regular ol' life, yet pondering backwards the why's, the how's, and the oh no's, not that road.

Feeling none the better for having written about it, right here, in my very own "for my eyes alone" video blog. Sans moving pictures.

Seven years

Heading backwards you'll see, 4, 3, 2, 1...announcing her gorgeous presence at the alley, the balance provided through him, not hers. And I strut on forth with another successful interaction under my belt, aware of my faults and misgivings. I own them.

Too much time has passed, no more reason left to heal all those doubts, which were/are there for good reason. Being used, over-analyzed, bombarded with assaults to that dignity I had, and lost. Each friend I regain, social interaction I conquer, heals some part of my soul. Not even broken.

Nothing in the way, wholly honest today, and back then, back all the way then, now apologize. The risks were always present, the cure heads my way in forgiveness-prone form, awaiting its arrival. I'm at fault, it's always been me, the blame-able one.