Wednesday, September 30, 2009
No one can fully comprehend the precision with which isolation has found me, how much I cannot completely be loved as how I need to be loved, how deeply, heart-wrenchingly I wish I am not alone.
Words are empty to me. Moments flickering, ephemeral, never lasting.
A year can pass with constant company and the happiness that follow but one night, one hour, one second apart and I crumble, fallen as if I have never stood before.
Maybe it is a choice as they say, but what if I'm not the one choosing?
What if I am the one chosen?
To carry the everlasting ascribed burden of loneliness.
To only be present in the past and future, never being satisfied with what is now.
Impulses beat within my heart, electrifying my fingertips, setting my skin on constant fire.
I turn to you for asylum.
But who am I to do that?