If everyone was able to be free to be themselves, the truly vulnerable; no walls, no masks, no lies, their souls would heal, their bitterness would lessen, their pain of spending years trying to fit someone else's image of who they should be would subside.

But they can't, they don't, they won't. Because they may never meet that person who accepts their soul for what it really is, with all its cracks and scars. The person who sees that it is barely held together in all its misshapen pieces, not knowing the incidents that shattered it over the years. Instead only caring to understand and hold it together now.

Love is wanting to be with someone, and enjoying spending time together, but how much of it is enjoying the thought of what you want them to be? How much do you love this person for the comfort of knowing they are there? The familiar cadence of their voice vs the fear of the unknown? Love is give and take, but how much do you give that isn't what that person really needs? Do you get what it is you really need?

When did we agree to live our life in mere existence instead of with passion? Why do we accept this as the inevitable? The acceptance of the bad with the good only works if the good is what your heart need to breathe. The clothes on the floor, the dirty dishes in the sink, the looking at life as a glass half empty can all be overlooked and accepted, after all they are only the little things in life right?

Only as long as the love you receive soothes your soul. The passion with which they touch your body sets your heart on fire. Your hearts should be so connected that the touch is necessary to get through the day. Both people should want so much to make the other happy they are both only focused on each other. But that doesn't happen.

When we are mad, we react by retreating, building up walls and withdrawing our acceptance. We are selfish and when our needs aren't met we don't care to meet theirs. And little by little we destroy each other's souls. Soon you are two empty shells of a couple pretending everything is ok.

I am fragile, much more than I seem. My heart is breakable by harsh words and lack of understanding. How many cracks can my soul take before it disintegrates? You are supposed to know and trust that the person who loves you would never say anything to purposely hurt you. They are supposed to tell you the good they see in you, not only the bad, and if they truly no longer see the good, then they need to let you go. Accepting someone's soul means building them up, never tearing them down.

There is safety behind walls that protect us from what we feel. We believe it lessens the pain, allows us to be safe. And maybe for some that works. But it deadens the passion, reins in the adoration and need. Life is about passion and if you can’t experience it, how is life worth it?

I want to be loved, and protected. I don't want to live like a high schooler trying to avoid the jabs of disdain. I am too old for that, and have neither the time nor the patience. I deserve more, I deserve to be adored. I need to live in a life where I am desired, because the thought of my pleasure gives them pleasure. The act of love is a physical touch a caress, the need to lay naked snuggled as one. That is what I need to re charge. The act of sex should be a dance of pleasure and lust not a sense of monthly obligation where the orgasm is the goal.

This is what I need to be right in my world, to be strong and fill the cracks in my soul. I do not fault others for not needing the same things. And at the age of 47 realize it may be just a dream and fantasy for me. But as I grow weaker it becomes harder to keep my own heart from being torn apart, and if it does not exist for me, I would rather be alone.