THE VOID:
Times are strange.
Nothing excites me and all I do is shuffle.
Between responsibilities piling up and
Not wanting to grow up, I am torn.
I don't remember why I wake up anymore.

Don't get me wrong, this is hardly a self-deprecating poem.

Because I know when the clock strikes 1800 hrs, my ride will arrive.

HIM:
He is about 60 years old and I have been riding with him in search of housing.
He is my broker.
To hear him banter and smile and truly enjoy his job.
Not as part of his job description, but because he is happy.

Almost makes me not want to find the perfect house, oddly.

Because to find happiness in you, you must find happiness in others.

Then for the rest of the evening, I am not unhappy anymore.