Ahhh…how different everything looks when truth splatters over fiction like a wave crashing over a tiny crab.

I sometimes forget to truly listen–I think most people do. We just sort of go through life projecting…and then you’re no safer than that little crab tooling around the shore.

Sure, you’ll survive the crash, but it will flip you on your ass and you’ll have to scramble to get back on your feet.

And that really sucks, because then you’re just feeling defeated. Empty. Hopeless. Lost. Anxious. Annoyed. Hurt. Pissed off. Confused.

I’m tired of feeling this way, but the harder I try to avoid it, the more damage I do armed with my own desperation.

It’s a tragic flaw of mine.

I know that. Yet, I can’t stop it.

It’s like I have ALL this intense passion that needs to be focused on something.

Once my heart picks it’s target, I’m like Scott Summers without his glasses.

But I’m the only one that gets burned, because I’m stupid and my aim has been really off for the last several years.

Because I don’t listen.

Because I can sit in a bar on a given afternoon waiting for him to hold my hand or touch my leg when he’s just not ready and I know it.

I know it, because he told me.

Point blank.

So, I grab his because I’m stubborn.

Then I listen.

And all I hear is distance.