Hugs

All I want is a hug.
A hug that embraces all of me for what I am, without expectations.
All I want is a hug that is safe, warm and full of unconditional love.
All I want is the embrace of a fellow human that truly cares about me.
Hugs, good loving hugs.
They melt my heart, encourage and repair the brokenness of my soul. 

Regrets are daggers stabbing our hearts as they insist on being let free.
I regret nothing a fool says, as it dawns on himself or herself that all we are is the sum of our regrets. 

I don’t mean to be so dark or gloomy and I wish I could say I regret a  little, but that would be a lie.
I painfully concur that we lie to ourselves to protect us from the extreme consequences of our cowardice and malice or inaction.
Regrets hurt like no other. 

We wither underneath the pounding sun of shame. Must be my age that places me in this reflective mood or maybe it is the missed moments to engage life in its own terms.  Perhaps, is the sorrow I have compiled over the years thinking I could of done more, said more, hug more, see more or cry more.
I don’t have a public list or a mea culpas of what I failed to be, act, perceive, embrace or disown. My list is privately very painful. Regrets leaves me quarreling with my mind. And I exhale painful fumes of regret.

Nothing hears you more then your own silence.

Your thoughts linger long after the noise of this world disappears. 

Haunting introspection delivering scenarios of terrorizing images, crippling you to scream in silence. 

Some call this crudely stuck inside your own head. As if I had a choice to unstuck myself from myself. 

From childhood to adulthood, you learn to build keys. These keys of imaginary powers can help you to open or close Pandora’s boxes. 

Tired of living at the edge of sanity, you seek answers from a psychological train human.
To help you understand the special hell you live in daily. The answers come after much regurgitating of my past: you are stuck in a fight or flight mode.  Like a war veteran Inflicted with PTSD. 

I have learned to quiet my mind during my state of fight or flight. I wish I could write that I longer suffer from catastrophic, inappropriate thoughts. Attacking my mind like a locust eats a field full of crops on a summer day. This places my whole body in an induce state of anxiety and panic. What I want you to know is that you are not alone or crazy