sweat and blood

I'm tired. I really am. It may be because no matter how young I act, I'm really growing older. I experience something everyday and these experiences change me little by little.

And so...

I have changed and I've grown tired and I fought and I've deflected and I've taken the hurts and the fears. I don't have any energy to fight anymore. I've grown so tired. I don't know how much I really care anymore.

I hate this.

How many times have I let go? I keep wondering just how much I truly believe in those times. I can turn away and I can do it completely. I've done it once and maybe, I can do it again. Maybe. But then, I find myself inexplicibly turning back. What then is complete about it?

Part of me needs him. But how much of that me is alive? He appears and disappears on his own will. He has his own will and I have mine.

I still love him, right? That care he has. The slight annoyance. The laugh. I miss him but... Where the hell is he?