Me, Myself, and I.

The unsteadily race of your heartbeats, the movement of your muscles tightening, and your shaking nervousness of your knees... It's all leading up to fear. I couldn't help, but to hesitantly answer the questions. You can't expect to barge into my house and for me to sympathize with you like I used to do with everyone else. Times have change and even though you may be here to help me, I don't know you and you most certainly can't expect to be my friend so please shove your business card back up your ass. Despite your convincingly gentle, likable voice along with your charming, gracious personality... I can't seem to trust you. Your presence brought visions of my nightmares back... and you noticed what no one else has yet. The more you addressed to me, the more I had to restrict myself from opening my heart out to you. Undeniably, the problem isn't you... it's me.

Lately, I've been emotionless and I was beginning to wonder when my prior feelings were going to kick in again. Now, there's no stopping them... not even my medication. The one thing I've been seeking for all this time still has not made its way to me yet and break down the walls. I've been so closed-mouth because I sense a prolonging disturbance of nonsense every time I pursue to open my mouth about how I've been feeling. There's just no point anymore because obviously it seems that no one is able to differentiate what and why I'm feeling this way. I'm nonchalantly scrolling down the view of my numerous contacts list and all I seem to pass by is a bunch of unfamiliar names even those whom I've given the trademark to be resided in my heart, those significant human beings in my life that I've called my best friends. Of course, nothing is stopping me from helping myself, but why is it that I can't seem to depend on anyone anymore including the people with the degree of that profession. I can't seem to distinguish between the fact of if is it because I'm either shutting myself out from the world again or if it's because my mouth is impossibly unwilling to pour out the contents of my heart. I'm hoping someone with notability to just get it, but who am I kidding? There's no one of that skill present in my life anymore who can realize the expressiveness of my desires. The desire to have a hand to hold while the pain is still combating to take over. Unfortunately, the solicitude for a release of the past does not seem to be coming.