The top button on my shirt has a hanging thread from it.   The button being white, the thread black, it should be quite noticeable, however the shirt itself has a black and white small print plaid, so it all blends in quite nicely.  Quite nicely of course, unless your head's down and like me, you're staring at the button on my shirt.

Life stopped for an hour or so while I was staring at the button.  The digital little numbers on the clock changed, yes, sixty times in fact, but it may as well have let off a nuclear bomb each time, for I wouldn't have noticed a troubador coming through my room.  I feel grey. 

It's just like me to love everything that's gone.  I may as well fall in love with old postage stamps of people I never knew, circa 1822. I'm not an entirely whole person, becuase everything I work for becomes a ghost.  It's as though with each passing day I fade a bit, and soon when my dog stands up on his two back feet for a treat, and tries to lean against my knee, he'll pass right through me and fall on his side. 

Perhaps I'm being punished by some force of nature for hating nature and all the evil little things I do.  That must be it, nature has forced me into exile. 

I've been getting a lot of attention, mostly from prospect lovers.  I don't understand these people. Is it that a pretty face and a bit of charm can snag even the hardest to catch?  Of course the one I'm interested in has more problems than a man stuck in a coconut.  That's me, difficult as ever, and not ready for commitment.  The only serious commitment I've made in the past couple years has been to someone who has more issues with it than me.  I really don't understand why, or how rather, that I attract people.  It's always when I don't want the attention, too.  The attention I want is from a dwindling source.  The less that source puts out, the more hopeless I become.  It makes me feel weak, but I remain stone cold, inside at least, outside I'm a darling.  That's what I am really, a lemon bar.  Sweet but slightly sour, and easy to bite into until you reach the crust.  I don't even try to douse myself in powdered sugar, it's just how I am.

Perhaps I should just put aside my pride and pick up the phone.  That's it though, I'm far too proud and stubborn for my own good. Openminded, oh yes, more than most, it's all more personal than that though. It's when I get to things that require me showing any weakness that I put up a wall.  I've had a very hard time with my life this summer, and I relly have only explained a quarter of it to one person.  Everythings really tearing at me, like I'd imagine a velociraptor would tear at a carcass. 

I've changed immensely the past year, however it was all to further cover myself up, I suppose.  I'm like an overly exposed photograph.   Fuck, I'm just really sad.   As much as I try to understand, the less I understand.  I feel like a stranger to myself, and I really just want to cry.  All I can do is dream of the past.  I just want to cuddle up with someone for hours and feel safe and like I'm not constantly expected to carry the world on my shoulders.  I'm not Atlas!  I'm really not...Maybe I depress myself. I think too much, that's what my mother tells me.

Always pacing around my room, I rarely sleep.  My mind is always in another place, and when I'm asked what it is I'm thinking of I can't really answer.  It's not that I'm afraid of what someone will think, it's just, how do you explain three hundred things to someone and expect them to keep track of how all those things correlate?  In truth, I can make any two things, despite how strange and unrelated they are, relate.  I've come to realize that I'm not like the average person though, and I think it's taken me long enough to realize this. 

I've not been socialziing so much as I usually do, possibly because I'm starting to find it a bit pointless.  Half the people I socialize with want to actually talk.  I'm just big on the idea of listening to, and observing people.  Psychological analyzation has always been a favorite past time of mine.  How awful does that sound!  Some people like to play tennis, I want to know what emotionally disturbs people the most, what will cause someone to break.  Maybe that's why I get along with people so well, I know how to say what they want to hear just by talking to them a little. 

I get tired of that though.  Just being myself, being able to laugh, smile, feel butterflies, talk, it's all coming back to me.  That's when I'm told that I'm stupid, and not as bright as I was. Why talk to someone about the things going through your head when they don't really listen and only want to hear you laughing?  Lately I've been presented with the most lovely thing...someone who loves to talk to me, and who I love to talk to.  A couple of those actually.  Butterflies in my stomach when I think of it.  Then worry.  Then I forget.  I think. I want to cry again.  It's a terrible cycle.  I have acquired this thing I've detested my entire life though...that's faith.  I realized that there was more to faith than religion, and I think most would agree I have issues with organized religion, but only recently have I taken the time to revisit faith in my head, and faith and I agree that it's time to rebuild her.   If I can make others believers, why can't I do it to myself?

I have faith that the butterflies will remain, and that I'll continue to melt hearts without even trying, or wanting to for that matter.  Maybe I'll actually pickle a heart that I think is a keeper.