Hanging By a Thread

I'm an actor. I never reveal my emotions in public and am generally pretty good at covering up my emotions in a way that no one really knows what I am thinking (at least, I'd like to believe I'm good at it ;-) ).

I hated the idea of confiding in people. It was just...well, just not me. I don't need people, I don't need sympathy. To borrow the words a friend of mine used, "I'm essentially not made to be with people". Quite true in a way. But what really sucks is vulnerability. If you're weak and then say something to let it out....somehow, everything falls apart.

Then you need to talk. You need to express things all of a sudden. It's not that you want to TALK to people, you balk at the idea, but now you do need an outlet.....and that's when you've got to be careful. Say too much and you'll regret it, sooner rather than later, most often.

That's actually what made me write. It's an outlet at times and yeah, it's a cool way to just be abstract, say nothing and yet feel relieved of the burden at times......ah well....

A friend of mine mailed me this one.....I'd written it ages ago...Engineering college I think. Very immature, very childish....but attached to it...sentimental me, I guess ;-)

By the lakeside, standing still,
Eyes surveying barren hills,
The world seems like the surface calm,
Hiding beneath it the storm,
Like the sea, so endless,
So dry when it all seems so wet,
Stretching into eternity,
Every life a tale of misey

Overhanging clouds of guilt,
And tales of courses forgotten,
The forks behind telling a tale,
Of chances lost and mistakes made,
And still he walks down lonely streets,
Hoping one day good luck to meet,
Does he believe it's for the best?
Why then are dreams laid to rest?

Once again she passed him by,
Like rocks bereft of a lighthouse,
No danger signs; nowhere to run,
Journey's end nowhere in sight,
Steer clear, how long will it last?
The ritual's nearly over; doesn't seem right,
The picture's burnt, but still remains,
He's tied to it inside his brain