We All Fall Down.

We often long for salvation, that one day somehow there'll be someone who'll suddenly sweep us off our feet - to kiss and cuddle the pain away. There are days, more often in recently when despair and hopelessness prance around my head, much like a halo except with malice intent.

I continue to circle the drain thinking the cycle of insanity isn't about doing the same thing and expecting a different result, wondering for eons what lies at at the end of the bottomless pit in my essence. Looking at life with a 'should be' opposed to 'actually is' mantra, operating in reality is just all too complex, painful and torturous. It's like having an underwater tea party, you have to rise above to catch air sometimes. Carefully planned plunges hurt less, but times when someone pulls the plunger and you surface back to reality whether it's of your bidding or not, hurts.

Until optimists, my glass is often half-empty and constantly evaporating. Constant reminders are set, that to be loved, you've gotta start loving yourself. The inability to do that while still patiently fantasising about a knight in shining armour just deepens the trap that I set myself out for. "That is not expressed does not exist," or as said by the doctor in Hear The Wind Sing by Murakami. If I can't find reasons why someone would love me, then it shall not exist. In my drunken stupor, intoxicated with sadness and lust, I find phantom solace in pleasures far beyond I can handle - though I relish in carrying the knowledge that the love was temporary gives me an upper hand. Or so I'd like to think.

The pathetic walk of shame home often reminds me how empty I feel afterwards, that a moment of heightened emotions and completeness is that drug that throws you into depression for days just moments after the deed is complete. It take getting hurt a few more times to learn. Certain things in life that takes more than a bite to be shy.

I miss those days when I didn't know better, when I was a little more naive. Those were the days my eyes sparkled, where I see tomorrows as new beginnings with globules of hope and joy waiting to be burst open. I used to dream about tomorrows and the many days after. These days I stop thinking about the future, not for I choose to live in the now, I just simply dare not think about it.

We all fall down, some more than others, some harder than the rest. We continue making cuts and grazes not because we're masochistic, but in our ability to heal and see the sun rise for another day.

We all fall down, but only some try to get up.