I should be sleeping but this happened instead

I can't tell if i'm horny as fuck or starting to actually want a relationship. I also can't tell what the bigger obstacle is; getting someone to love me, or getting myself to love someone else.

vulnerability is purple, yet is should definitely be gray.

I think you are trying to tell me something without words

and I think I might be up for the challenge.

but anybody that would be willing to touch

and open that door, even just a little

would have to have an incredibly amount of patience

and they must know what it feels like to walk heavily,

hands cracking, back aching

because I come with a lot of baggage

and life hasn't even begun yet.

if i went for someone as vulnerable as me it'd be destined to fail.

I need someone strong and sure of themselves.

I am afraid to shed my skin because it is the only thing protecting me. and if I take it off in the hopes of enjoying a warm embrace, that warm embrace will eventually float away and I will just be cold again. 

I am afraid to spill my water because then I will be empty and who would I be without all I have filling me up? (good and bad)

I am afraid to tell you my secrets because you will start to worry about me and I don't want anybody to worry about me like that because it will push me away.

I used to know what love was but that was before life opened up and the air no longer felt heavy.

I still sometimes wonder if the air will ever feel heavy and light at the same time like it did that at one point. But I don't really wonder about that too much because there isn't really a point.

Love houses inside of naivete is probably the greatest love there will ever be, because the soul knows no boundaries and has not been broken yet. There are no hinges, bricks, or walls. There is just you. me. us. 

But that was then, and this now.

This is now.

This is now.

now. now. now.

People know how to house themselves inside of something beautiful. Or at the very least they can house themselves in something.

In people, in television, in books, in academia.

I think the only thing i've really houses myself inside of so far is a bottle of rum and the sadness that is the bitterness that burns my throat those first couple of sips.

But the thing is,

that it always goes away and instead, I grow warm and relaxed, and comfortable.

I am always wanting what I can't have.

Or don't know how to give myself.

Like men who have feelings already.

Or worse, those without a real bed to lie in.

Or a woman with an elegance and independence I could inhale,

whose embrace would sweetly sting my skin many times over

many times over,

many times over.

If I had a roommate I would not be able to do this right now.

If I had a roommate I would not be able to have sex.

Or bring beers back to my room.

Or listen to Tool before I go out.

Or dance in the mirror.

I'm lucky as hell.

.

.

.

I am tired of  reading top 10 lists of ways to make your better, or 10 ways to increase my happiness.

Nothing tells you HOW and everything just tells you WHAT.

It isn't so easy, don't you know that?

Adaptation and acceptance are answers.

Reality comes in the form of nostalgia and a myriad of bad news, but atleast it is build upon true building blocks.

Like I said some time ago

You could hate love but at least it's a catalyst.

Should I try to write a story about real people who feel real feelings that manifest into real happenings?

Of course they'd only be real in my head, but that's pretty much what real is to me anyways, LOL.

Should I try?

I need an outline.

ha, I need an idea.

Yeah. Ideas. Doesn't have to be a long story. Can be a short story. A poem, even. A couple lines.

I have ideas. I need outlines. Then words. Manifestations.

Everything manifests

EVERYTHING. MANIFESTS.

feelings turn to thoughts which turn to behaviors. behaviors are manifestations of feelings.

yes.

You must be an illusion, I can see through you.