Mail on Sunday?

So what do you do when you realize your age and that there are so many things in your life that are acceptable but not … You aren’t anywhere near where you wanted to be at this time and you definitely have issues with your career choice. . don’t really understand why you carry this lag of emotion that you have been trying to dump and talk yourself out of for years. You claim to be one thing, but secretly wonder if you could be another. I have been actively looking for a woman to be with realizing that if I could not be with whom I wanted to be with for whatever reason I wanted to be, that I would continue to search for the woman that was for me. I wouldn’t think it would be too hard, since the life I have been trying to live was my bad and should have been more honest with myself. . . I know that deep down inside I do care about those I have been with and wanted so bad to climb back into an old life that I seem to remember so well like it was yesterday. A childhood event that was only seen by the most observant and heartfelt.

I know there are certain words that bring me back to these days that honesty seemed so easy and reality was a blessing to my eyes everyday I saw it. There were so many things that didn’t make any sense at that time and I tried so hard to do every thing at once and found out quickly that it wasn’t going to work like that. This longing for the depth of circumstance almost seems to cry to my heart longing for what my soul knows should be real.

Why do I let myself talk myself out of so much that I know deep down inside shouldn’t bother me? I wish so much in so many ways that there was more I could do to convince myself what I’ve done in my past made sense and was done right. I’m not even sure what I’m trying to get at with myself by even bringing it up. I do know that there is some type of void or space that is silently screaming at me to pay “the fuck” attention for once and .. well… I have yet to really open my eyes and ears and abide.

The heart to me is much more than just a bucket full of lust waiting to spill out on the first person who says “I love you”. The heart of a female seems to spill more willingly than any I’ve known and more times than any usually tries to be picked up for evaporated by the time realization hits of what was said or done. I know there are circumstances that have occurred in the past that show replays in my mind all the time of my ignorance on a situation and how I should have taken the words and comments. None of which can barely break through these very thick and brisk walls I’ve so well crafted.

In the end does any of it matter enough to be thought of once again in a sober and thought out manner of more than just a glimpse of tight humanity? Being this far along in age, all I know is if I haven’t figured out my feelings by now I might as well just sit out on the front porch and wait for the mail man on a Sunday. It makes about as much sense….