Is That So?

was it just last week?
i can barely remember the love that just began.
seems like it has already died.
i wanted it to grow.
so now i'm all hollowed out.
emptied.
small.

and what is simple is unattainable.
i'm bored with silliness.
being generous.
being content.
being kind.
being oblivious to oneself's goodness and the danger and potential harm that underlies it.

what is carelessly given is not carelessly received.
it's funny, that we tell ourselves we feel warm with an embrace from a beautiful young stranger.
that somethings can be understood without words.
without knowledge of one's condition.
the whispers of "everything will be alright" still echoes in my ear.
i remember the urge to talk back at him: "no it won't. I don't believe you".
but i so wanted him to be right, for his words to be true. i stopped myself. hesitated.

but echoes are only echoes. nothing more.
no matter what the need, it grow ever so distant.
i am unseen, therefore it is like everything else: without meaning.