Some things are straightening out.
Some things are looking up.
I’m standing up.

Other things are falling down.
Other things are twisting my stomach.
I’m doubling over.

I’m vomiting stress and secrets and anxiety onto the carpet, a dark and uncomfortable stain.
Anger pulls trust and confidence slowly from my lips; two more blackened regrets on the floor.
I don’t feel so good.

I may have mentioned that she was “hard-to-get,” so to speak.
Well, indeed.
What an enigma, man.
She flirted sometimes, and was a stone wall the next moment.
Imagine trying to court an Autumn in Colorado; that was Madelynn.
She was not the first girl to say “no” to me when I first asked her to be mine, but the first in a long time, and the first to affect me.
I was used to predictable, insecure rabbits of girls, whose immaturities and self-conscious fears guided them into my inherent charms and snares; traps they had always desired.
Madelynn was la renard; a fox who put me on my knees for once.
I wasn't what she wanted.
The fox escaped.

We understand that stress kills you.
We’re here to help.
It doesn’t mean you can relax.

We understand that you don’t know how to communicate.
We’re accommodating.
It doesn’t mean you’re exempt from interaction.

We understand.
It doesn’t mean you can escape.

“You’ve obviously put a lot of thought into this.”
Well, you have not, and somebody’s got to.
There will come a day when social obligations will no longer be enough to hold me here.
There will be a day when my love runs out.
That will be an interesting day, but until then, I’m running out of “desperate cries for attention” to make up for your incomprehension.
You can only misunderstand me so many times.
Patience is a finite resource, and it is just one of the ways that I’m running low.

Here's something:
A car can only run on empty for so long.
*What happens when the road levels out?

Stop thinking.
Stop thinking.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
It’s always darkest before it shows you it can get darker still.
Clouds can still block out the Sun in the middle of the day.
You’re not out of the woods yet.

What a nightmare.

There was something that stopped me to begin with.
I don’t remember what it was, but it felt like lying.
She didn’t trust me, because I wasn’t how I am now.
She made me who I am now.
But she’s gone.
So who am I?

There was something that reminded me why we were
I don’t remember what it was, but it hurts.
When you’ve broken someone’s heart, who keeps the pieces?
If I have them, what am I expected to do with them?
Because I don’t know how to fix that sort of thing,
And she doesn’t want me to, anyway.
What do I do?

There’s something that told me it was supposed to end.
I know exactly what it was, and it was too familiar.
I couldn’t always be happy, and she couldn’t either.
And now I’ve perpetuated that.
She won’t feel happy for a long time.
But was it worth it?
How soon can I be happy again?

There’s something that everyone keeps telling me.
They tell me I’m a bad man -- I’m the killer.
I’m not a bad guy. I can’t be. That’s not me.
I never meant to hurt anyone.
I just wanted me to be happy.
Because I’m always looking out for number one, you know?
What happens when I’m not number one anymore?

What happens when I care enough to heal the next girl?
What happens when I realize I have to heal myself first?

“L’amour n’est pas consolation; il es lumière.”

By as much as our might my diminish
We will harden our minds
We will seal off our hearts
For insecurity, perhaps

“Le coeur a ses raisons, que la raison ne connaît.”

She changes my reasons, I still cannot understand
I no longer try to comprehend
I no longer seal off my heart
For love, perhaps

It was Elizabeth Bishop
Indeed, the “Chemin de Fer:”
“‘Love should be put into action!’
screamed the old hermit.
Across the pond, an echo
tried and retried to confirm it.”

Shall we take action, my love?