12StringDreams

Old Man Simants

"That which does not kill us, makes us stronger."

"Time will heal."

And what about the biggest line of bullshit ever spoken
about setting someone free and seeing if they come back.

"That which does not heal, will kill us over time."

"Stand by the one you Love when love fades and leaving
seems easier, if still they leave then it was never meant
to be."

Now that I've got that off my chest and all the
inappropriate things people say, at the most inappropriate
times, reworded, I guess I can step down off my soap box.

Seems like I've spent a lot of time up on that box lately.
I guess some people get quiet when they get scared. I use
to just run away. Now that I can't run all I can seem to do
is talk.

Not always in a educated way, sometimes not even in a
polite way. I guess brutally honest would be the best
description. Pull no punches and leave no table un-turned.
Leave no dish un thrown and no wall un-hit.

I think it's starting to get better. I'm not sure. I'm
starting to feel better but I've been drawn into the false
sense of security before. I've been blinded by love and
slapped up side the head with a lack there of.

I've started to let my guard down slowly. I'm carrying my
hands a little lower and not dancing around near as much.
I've admitted defeat and claimed victory. I've cried,
thought and laughed.

I realized I'm not near as afraid of failing as I am of
being failed again. I honestly don't know what I would do.
I don't think I could handle coming home to an empty house
again. I'd probably end up dying a grumpy old hermit that
sit's on the front porch cursing at the people as they
passed by.

You know the house....

Old man so and so....

Bitchs about the dog shiting too close to his yard and the
kids being too loud. The house that never has a decoration
for any holiday other then the old weathered flag that
flies year around. Proud of his service to the world and
pissed off at the world's lack of service to him. Old
pickup truck with the even older camper shell sits out in
the long grass that use to be a yard, now just a grave yard
for long forgotten vehicles. He walks with a cane even
though he really don't need it and talks out loud even
though nobody listens. He waits for the day he dies and he
becomes someone else's burden, at least for a couple days
or so.

It's strange I can see that so clearly in my mind. Clearer
then I can imagine a beautiful woman growing old with me.

I'm a hard person to like and an even harder person to
Love. She sure is trying. My God is she trying.

I'm going to try to. I'm going to try and make this easier
for her.

"Love heals."

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