Why don't I ask the one person I feel would have an answer? That's what I want, right? An answer. Something to live for, to be good at, to feel comfortable with? That's what I should want, right? So why don't I ask if it would help me find peace?
To be honest with you, I really think I'm afraid..I'm afraid because all I've had to keep me going since I was a child was this strange search for purpose. I've longed for it, I've craved it, I thought I wanted nothing more in this world than to find some reason for ME to be here..
And I found it, once...I saw that I was good at fixing things. Though my expertise wasn't cars or computers like some might think, it was broken heart strings...because It turns out that years of loneliness does wonders for understanding how the wounds we don't see can be the ones to bring us down..
And for awhile, I was happy healing those wounds..until a question hit me. Like a broken record doomed to repeat, It played over and over again, it kept asking me.
"Do you really care how others feel? Or is this all for you?"
And truth be told, I was terrified because I didn't know the answer. And rather than facing the music and asking myself honestly, I chose to just stop trying..I gave up giving myself for others, so that I wouldn't have to face the fact, that giving a helping hand, was my last stand for helping me..
So now a question plagues my thoughts, it's the question of my life. And I cannot dare ask loved ones, for fear that they would lie, yet through all the years that I have lived, I still can't seem to answer this.
"What kind of man am I?"