#476

there are things i would say to you, if i had a right to speak; things that i would ask you, but what would be the point?

you ask me why i stay awake at night, but i cannot say. the things that trouble me run deeper than i ever want to bother you with - what would be the point?

if we look to the heart of this thing, we would find that the weight on my shoulders was placed there by the errors of my own humanity. i could pretend that this was not the case, but what would be the point?

we could second-guess yesterday and say, that if my choices had been this, or that, instead of the paths that i chose, perhaps things would be different. we could live in the past, but would there be a point?

we could give free rein to passion, and let anger rule the moment. if i let this go for a second, you might get to feel some of my pain. but i am certain as night is not day, that the things i would say would only cause you hurt, and so what would be the point?

this one thing is the undoing of all the strength and resolve that i possess. you say that i should let go and just sing the songs from my heart. but wise men say there's wisdom in holding your peace, even when the pressure within makes you desperate to seek the sweet relief that exists in letting it all out. we are slaves to commonsense; we are the pawns of peace. i could pretend that i don't care that my words would make you cry; but tell me, what would be the point?

if i had the right to speak, i would tell you that my dreams are haunted by thoughts that i could never share with you. my words would burn you, and it would be grossly unfair. the point is that i love you too much to ever hurt you like that.

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