I am alive and unhappy because I let myself feel challenged. I have found friends hoping it might turn into more but it has become a loss that I feel and no connection except some foolish poetic prose. Trying not to be hurt again, so I refrain, skirt the sentiment, which floods my veins making life wonderful but unnerving. I have showed my hand and now I am worried that I will cause a change eliminating and votive of celebration and unknown happiness. I am so humbled sensitive to another losing of my life. I am dying slowly and comfortably in a place of my own making. Feel scared and horrified, hurt and uncomfortable to which I say this is and should be this is certainly different to digest. I have been placing myself in a cautious callous position for too many years. Slow to react ominously to the miniverse like boats in the locks of the Panama Canal. I am attached to the force of tiny powerful engines holding me hostage for a fee until they free me. Without expressive movement, tussled to my heart and soul the feeling of unease forces greater than those that I at play skirmishing to keep me in a place of trouble and unhappiness. How do you proceed when the spirit is locked, you into a position of pain and remorse do you have a choice to change? I say, I have no choice to change or chance my empathetic life again. It is all fan fair without the glimmer of warmth or derivative of validation the coincidence that unfolds in on to you most truthful strength giving away to a vacuum of emotional displacement. The cherub of the heart is broken and the daunting scourge reckons your deepest emotions. There is no chance there without wreckage and I feel my heart and soul sinking and embarrassed again into the abyss of a haunted unhappy life.