Heroic Stoic I'm Not

Crying easily and frequently and I don't like it. Not one little bit.

It feels out of control although I know it's not and it's natural. But really the only thing that is easy right now are those ready tears.

People, to me, are more than just their individual selves. Especially the men. Each man is not just a singular entity, but also representative of so much more. Not just other men, but also hopes, dreams, emotions...

So often they represent what is missing and not what is.

But is it really that they represent the lack? Perhaps it is instead that their presence serves to highlight what is in fact not present. I'm present...but very little else is.

And others? Others are miles and decades away. They're in the future or in the past: two states which I am guilty of frequenting as well. But not now. Now...I may not know where I am, but at least I know when.

Your questions are hard, sometimes; and sometimes they're not so nice. But yes, those things that are missing... Well, they are they are. That's not to say I'm incomplete. Maybe I am incomplete. I'm not looking for something else to fill that, though. I am looking for something else, but... Oh Christ I'm tripping over my own tongue (my own typing?) and hardly making any sense.

I had other things to say. I even wrote them down. Suddenly I'm clamming up. I wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions are written all over my face in thick Sharpie. I wish I were a better liar.

I gently coax others out of stoicism; but right now I see their point.