My fortress of solitude. At least it's pretty. Don't hate.

My fortress of solitude. At least it’s pretty. Don’t hate.

The rain is pounding on the roof and the wind won’t stop howling. I’m looking at the movie, but really watching him. I wonder what would happen if I actually told him what I thought. I play the scene out in my head, about six different ways, and each of them ends in catastrophe. So I say nothing. When he looks at me I smile and look back at the movie.

Of course I wasn’t watching you, how odd would that be?

I don’t know why I keep pretending my heart’s not already out there. Available and free for the taking.  And I still don’t know what I’m so afraid of. Well, yes I do. But I have to maintain a sense of composure, a sense of dignity. Damnit I have my pride! And my pride is best maintained with silence.  A fortress, if you will, of solitude.

Besides all that, I already know the conclusion. I remember saying I had no expectations. This is still true, but in my mind, sometimes, everything plays out differently. I am just not sure what to do with the pieces of me. Not sure where to put them or how to place them correctly. A long time ago, I thought I knew my heart. But now, there are all of these gaps and open spaces. The light shines through and gives away the frailty of what I’m working with.  I think all of the pieces are still there, but I just can’t quite figure out how I’m put together. So for now, I guess I’ll just keep my mouth shut, and watch this stupid movie.

pingback: Daily Prompt: Fright Night


4 thoughts on “vulnerable

  1. Pingback: Daily Prompt: Fright Night | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss

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  3. Pingback: Gender-Bending Fantasy Wish Granted! | Edward Hotspur

  4. Pingback: Daily Prompt: Fright Night | flow of my soul

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