Grumpypants

I admit it. I've been dragging my lifeless limbs around in what some would call "grumpypants". While this accusation might be true I don't think that a willing soul would choose such unfashionable attire. I choose to describe this syndrome as more my mixture of emotions steaming in a dark cauldron of impossibilities stirred with the harsh wooden spoon of reality.

Every night I lie in my clouded state of sleeplessness and think about things that simply cannot be. My tears tell me these thoughts are detrimental to my well being and yet my heart keeps on forcing them into my imagination. Fantasy takes hold and I try to convince myself that the impossible is full of possibility. It's all nonsense.

My being grumpy towards you is just my way of showing the white flag of defeat. You may not take it as such or even have the experience to decipher my emotional riddles. I don't expect you to understand. After all, you are only my friend.

In-depth conversations held underneath the stars are full of uncertainty. Words ring so true on occasion. "Sometimes a girl will look so hard at one individual that she will miss entirely the nice guy in the shadow." We may speak in truth perhaps, but in what context. Do we reverse the roles? It seems as soon as I start glancing in the angles of what I refer to as "impossibilities" I'm struck down by that internal spark of realism. I want what I can't ever have. I strive for something unattainable. My head sends warnings to watch my heart for it's going to break and for once I'll be the only one to blame.

I cry. For the first time in my life I never lowered the bar, forgot about treading on my line of distrust and walked into something without ever expecting to feel the way I do right now. Unfortunately I'm on the dark side of a two way mirror, impossible to reach, feel or see. You have my attention but another has yours.

It's cold and lonely over here. Just like the heart you are about to leave unknowingly in ruins.