Too bad for empathy...

When I die,it will be by my own hand.And not my real hand (hopefully),but of that intricate metaphor which combines all that I am into one.In short,it will be love and hate and everything in between.

I'm such a frightful creature,though!While most of the time I strive for the screaming part to be internal,there are circumstances,even common like the one today,when you just can't hide shaking hands and a trembling voice.In part,it's utter feeble character,I'll admit wholeheartedly,but what I'm most afraid of is loss.

I don't have much,but it surely feels like a lot when I suddenly realize it's risen dust and that it must someday fall again.I can't even bring myself to say the word,let alone...

I keep on trying,even though I almost swore I wouldn't do it anymore.Why can't I keep the promises I make to myself?Maybe that's a form of cowardice as well...

If I could,I would gather all the pain surrounding me and I'd pour it into myself.It makes me miserable to the core when I see someone or something that I love suffering.Me?I'm a tough cookie,I can take it-even when I can't.But them?
I guess it's a matter of perspective.Though I suspect a long night ahead...