I try to glue it together, but there's pieces missing,
or they aren't fitting properly, or the glue isn't working just right.
So I have to toss it and start over.. again.
It's frustrating. I feel clumsy, awkward.
My hands shake every so often, and my coordination is just..
not quite right.. for what I need.
I get confused, trying to figure out where to go with it,
what to do with it.
For a few blissful moments, sometimes, I can forget about it,
focus on something else. But I can't.
Because some things just have to be done.
So I do them.
I'm tired now. My back aches, breathing hurts some nights.
I promised that when it wasn't worth the tears, I'd move on..
so it's time. Time for a new try. To scrap the mess and start over.
Take some old parts, some new parts, a bit of glue, paint, string,
a little spit, a lot of luck, and hope.
Hope. That tiny, fluttering thing that can almost be unbearable
sometimes to carry around. It swells and grows at the least word or
gesture. It betrays sometimes.. that false beacon from a lost and lonely lamp.
It hurts. The pain .. I need it some days. Because I'd rather hurt, even to the
utter core of my being, then feel nothing. Be nothing.
Because if it hurts, there's still a chance. Still Hope. Still something there to break and bleed and crack and crumble. So I hurt.
And start looking for more glue.
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