The Worth of Change

I have morphed into an unknown. A being of completely circumstantial emotion and reaction. I am nothing like you. But you insist on being with me.
I continue to bite dust. I continue to burn holes in this life because of some substantial need to fill your life with purpose.
If you knew me like I know me. You might hate me. And as I continued to learn of myself, I saw the looseness in my knowing what I thought I knew was myself. So much of who you know is a product of pain, abandonment, insincerity, need.
So much of who you know is a product of circumstance. Yet they told me that somehow, I asked to be brought here.
I have to disagree with this, since so much of this life has had me questioning if I should continue. Should I continue this walk without the things that I live for? Should I continue this walk without the peace of mind I need. What would it have meant for me to be prepared enough not to give, or to shine, or to inspire or to…love.

I scaled the emotional walls. I tried to pass those tests, I gave and I gave, I forgave and forgave, I lied and I told the truth, I approached with honesty and dignity. I put God on my side, the left and the right, unashamedly I loved.

The sorcery behind my fate is to catch on that I should never have given, or tried or loved. One as selfish as me should have been more selfish and less concerned with the proclivity of others to hide, or to lie or to be false or to live behind walls.

I sit here. Broken, disguised, alone and bitter. Used up to my core. Sick to my stomach that… this, this… right now, is what I have to show for all of those moments of passion, conviction and purity. Its mine. I own it. Its tasty. Bitter.

Bitter like an aloe as I try to define the past and this current presence of mind.
Writing here and there to maintain my sanity so that I could try loving again this time stronger with less plea
To affirm that I am whole again, not borrowed or broken or blue
To affirm that I have made conscious choices and take responsibility for loving you.
And being wrong about it.

Now me with my heart behind a wall, am no better than the ones before,
But I will do my best not to take for granted the ones that want to know,
What is was like to love like God and still live to tell a tale.
A love journal here and a tear there with wrinkles and scars and pounds to prove that at least I tried it.