Can you be an individual in a pack?

In a room to loud,

I have been thinking about how I like to handle things,

living with other people, new people has throw of my internal balance,

where are my hours of pondering? where are my long walks?

I have had a moment to think of it all and have decided to make the most of my time,

I like long walks, I like doing solo activities, it not so much about sadness or anything like that,

I just need uninterrupted steam of consciousnesses to flow though me, to ground me to think it all though in my head, make the move when I am ready.

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Unfinished

I feel I have not yet done anything I wanted to achieve, the empty feeling creeping into my day after 10am, slowly pulling me down, that happy face, filled with bad thoughts and a frown.

Is there only room in my life for one? I have been happy with two before, but that was only momentary. When we got close things started to get hairy, scary and you pushed away.

I, myself push outwards, expanding searching for new ways to do things make things happen, but so often I feel myself fall short and fail. Too many times I have failed, an very little I have made work well. Maybe one day I will be happy and find my true self.

My phone keeps ringing with faces I don’t like. I am grateful that people want my attention as I do like receiving attention, but it seems to be coming from all the wrong people, everyone I care for has found peace without me, and everyone one else want s a piece to take and not give.

My hair falling around my face as I lay down to read a book, I need to read, take my mind of things for a while, what I really need is you, your hips and a good bonk. But that is not the way it is forever starting anew, 1000 more days without you.

Cool feeling on my neck, no socks. I have developed a love for the cold, to be in it, to calm to heated heart and frazzled mind. They cold is the only thing I can do without damaging myself in some unspeakable heartbroken way.

How am I supposed to feel?  The love I felt, for you was never real. Wounds I pick at, and angry flames grow higher and it is all a mess. How am I supposed to feel. When nothing I have done has made me feel tall, Jack yourself in, write a story, Numb yourself out, there is more than one way out, How am I supposed to feel…