Standing Outside in Winter

What is my crime?

I feel too much?
I care too much?
I love too much...

God or Karma or the natural order of the world is punishing me. For what, I do not know...
But lately I cannot seem to stand upon the rock I used to be so comfortable with.
I knew each stone so intimately, now they reject  my footing.
So often now I hurt. I don't understand why I am being branded. Maybe Luck has singled me out to fuck me. Shine a light while I wonder alone, then vanquish my vision. Teetering on either side of bliss and woe. The rock is so slick now, I fall so easily.

No explanation.   No warning.   No rhyme or reason...

Just fucked and unhappy. Between the black and white is the grey area. That is my brightest color:
No color

Coincidence? No...
Even coincidences don't last forever. Not even bad luck holds on that long. Luck or Karma, even Deja Vu, will balance themselves out in the end.

So what is it then?

I wish I could see myself through someone else's eyes so when I feel like saying "Fuck off," I can understand why. I guess I don't know myself as well as I once thought. Do I recognize what I see in the mirror or do I just project the reflections of what I'm comfortable with? And if so, why am I comfortable with a face that looks back with such heavy eyes?

Something of myself is lost again. Dropped off and forgotten somewhere where I once walked. I have walked far enough to even think about looking back for it. I don't even know what it was...

Bad habits and frustration fill the holes now.
At least something is patching me up.
Maybe this is how I'm meant to feel.
Longing.    Incomplete.    Alone.
Even I don't want to hang out with myself for long.

When you're standing outside in winter, you notice the glow and feel the warmth from inside so much stronger. It beams on your face from an open window and you take it in for a moment like a breath of air from a high altitude.
Then turn and continue walking...

Maybe if I keep walking, I'll find something else to fill the holes.
Something that is actually good for me.
Something I can have and not just borrow.
Something that changes the face I see in the mirror.
Something that picks me up and gives me balance once again.
Makes the rock I once stood on more rigid then ever.

But who knows. Writing about it wont make it go away or explain it to me. If we are all masters of our destiny and in control of our own lives, I must really enjoy the art of sabotage.

My crime is that I want to be happy. Punished and sentenced to endure the opposite of my desires.
No, it's definitely not coincidence or luck. But is there a reason behind what I should feel? Faith in good things now slip like my footing. Time to loosen up on the steering wheel and just shut the fuck up. I'm not going to chase the answers anymore...

A man who wears so many different hats really just hates his hair. Seems like it's time for a new haircut. If those things that once made me happy continue to evade me, then fuck it. The quickest way to lose something is to want it too much.

I will find the next thing that brings me bliss and pour myself into that instead.