. . .

the truth is

the truth is we say we’re fine. that we’re content, happy even. our life has meaning. we’ve found ourselves, our ‘purpose’. but what does that even mean? we’ve found the things that make us tick. the things that fill us with -- laughter, hysteria, and tears. the things that buoy us along this life. we have so much to show for it. to show ourselves. 

so, then what is it? why is it one encounter after the next that leaves us disappointed, 

misunderstood, and,

unwanted?

it’s true what they say, that I have to want myself first, before another can do the same. & i do. I just can’t quite seem to grasp why it is that there is so much ready to pour out of me and there’s no one there, consistently, to pour it into.