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Everyday is a constant fight, as the sun beckons me to wake I find myself twisting and turning to find any amount of shadow to shroud me from its light. I would give my soul for just ten minutes alone to live another life that exists in my mind, but unable to fight I admit defeat to embrace a life of mediocrity and shame. How did it get to this point where I choose to sleep over living a life that I used to love, which I used to hold on to with all my might. But as every year passes another candle goes out with the promise of a better life and someone new to love.

I am always looking for that sublime moment of either joy or misery, as the middle ground feels like nothing to me, when I’m not in love I feel like a blank slate, a boat in the ocean miles from land. But as love takes hold I start to feel alive, as if an artist is working that stone into something greater than its parts. The only problem in living like this is that I’m still I’m love with all women of my past. Every stale relationship, incidental encounter and passionate affair still bares a scare on my heart, a wound which will never heal and as every broken heart piles on top of the last I’m starting to find it harder to breath.

As I am getting older and wiser I am beginning to understand why I live this life. There is something in my past that I choose to forget, some unbearable pain, a wound so deep, and an untouchable love that I have spent my life trying to obtain.