Rudderless

I have to admit, meeting you felt like fate, I don't know what other word to use, what other concept could be so succinct, because none other fit. It's like trying to force a square through a circular hole: futile. Perhaps that's just what I am, no matter how much I run from it. Running from reality only leaves you tired, and more broken. I wish I could convey just what you mean to me, but I don't have the word, I feel like I don't even speak the language. What's more, that it wouldn't even matter...I can't help but feel that I'm meant to live and die alone. I really don't know any more, you've thrown me for a loop, and now I'm just waiting to hit the ground. It's not profound, it just tastes of failure and loneliness - my own private stick. I just feel so rudderless, no hands on deck, honestly there's really nothing left. 

Author's Note

1/14/15