You

I am stumped. As I always have been. That look on your face unblemished. Beautiful does not even begin to describe you. That sparkle in your eyes blinds me sometimes. Ironic I know. And I just want to kiss them so bad. Imbue you with hope in your bleakest moments, inspire you in your personal battles. Maybe tell you the cheesiest pick up lines but mean every word of it. Or sweep you off your feet as though it is the only thing I am good at. I want to tease you about your idiosyncrasies till you turn away in annoyance, just so I can wrap my arms around you from behind only to begrudgingly let go after you playfully elbow me in my side a couple of times. I want to be the one that wipes your tears away when you cry, kisses your lips when you smile, holds you when you feel alone and in heartrending sadness, your overwhelming joy.

Here I am again.

Here I am again. It's fall now and the last remnants of summer are visibly waning. Vestiges of autumn slowly manifesting on the verdant mountaintop scenery as a precursor to the encroaching cold. Daylight is becoming more scarce giving way to the blanketing night sky. The temperature clearly on the decline with the overcast skies as a reminder. To my consternation I have been relatively upbeat in spite of the gloomy weather. My pensive outlook on life remaining constant, maybe it is just me adapting to this perpetual state of longing. I still tremble when the nights get lonely and despondent. They still haunt me. The fumble-ups that is. Even in broad daylight I wince ever so slightly when they intrude my thoughts. Persistent poltergeists they.

Analogy

I am sick of having my christianity clumped in the same group as the other organized religions out there. For the last time, it is not a religion. It's a relationship with Jesus Christ my saviour and lord. And I believe every word he says.

I am sick of having my mafia affiliation clumped in the same group as the other organized crime syndicates out there. For the last time, it is not a crime syndicate. It's a relationship with Don Corleone. And I believe every word he says.

Emotions

There are days I wish I could put my emotions into a box and bury it six feet deep, only to realize emotions are what drive us. The fuel for this vehicle. My brain as its engine.

Not again.

I can't. As much as I want to I can't. I stand to lose too much. How can I look at you and not fall for you again? The way your green eyes captivate, from afar or up close. It doesn't really matter. I get enraptured by their gleam regardless. The way your brown hair falls elegantly with its impeccable curls. The way the shapely contours of your face brim with such perfection. The way your radiant smile takes my breath away. The way your skin glows. The way your voice resonates in me when I hear you speak. And my heart skips a beat every time. Maybe two. Or three. I don't know. You are truly resplendent and I am mesmerized. So, how can I look at you and not fall for you again? You are, after all, beauty personified.

Intolerance

I'm quickly developing an intolerance for stupidity amongst my peers. I used to find it mindlessly amusing and rightfully so but as of late, my delighting in such inanity has began to degenerate into a peevish petulance. I'm afraid I will one day snap and lose my friends as a result.

It is an insult.

To say that I should not feel bitter is an insult. It is an insult to the heart I put in. It plain out debases the hopes and beliefs I held dearly, as if they flowed from a limitless well and can be easily replaced without any expense. And the only thing worse is everytime I look at you, I am not reminded of how you left my heart in shambles. Instead, I am reminded of the excruciating fact that I'm still stuck in this cycle of rejection, of feeling inadequate, of being unwanted, of helplessness while you are off prancing into the sunset. To say that I should not feel bitter is an insult. It is akin to saying I deserve to have my heart rent to pieces over and over and over again with no remission and be okay with it. And to that I say fuck no. Fuck no.