I’ve died so much on the inside that I am thinking of allowing the outside to follow suit. Love yourself, find your bliss, confront your fears, do what you love … all these things I’ve been told, all these things are far beyond my reach. What I lack, need, desire, is love, true, real, honest love. I need that more than I need the air to breathe to keep this failing body going another day. Not only as a recipient, but as the giver of. I long to be able to openly love again, to be happy, to have those endorphin's kick in and my pupils expand and my skin to pimple every time I see my, certain someone, and know that those sensations are returned in like. That’s never going to happen though. I am not that man, I am not any man actually, just a beat, whipped and terribly abused little boy stuck in a body not of his liking or making. Forever afraid and forever quick to judge and hate and think the worst of people instead of the best. Forever afraid.