There is a grown up world.


It informs my behavior, shapes my sensibilities, carves the path I ought to walk.


But I do not belong in it. I live in a world of make-believe where I fool nearly everyone and myself.


Here I am the king and we live by -high ideals and talk of -deep things and make promises we have every intention of keeping but likely never will.


It is not a lie. It is just a dream.


It’s not real, but that doesn’t make it not true.


Here the only wars fought are with myself. I have bouts with my duality in the battlefield of my mind,


where my heart fires powerful feelings against


the bastion that is my rock-solid logic which is


ironically held together by faith


and should crumble to the earnest reasoning…


“It will make you happy, do it”


But it doesn’t. The bastion doesn’t crumble.


I have done “it” before and the joy was fleeting. And Icarus kissed the sun and fell burned and broken and I was afraid to hear the rest and though I profess to be bold the truth is I’m safe. Because my world is just make-believe.



Tonight I realized my deepest fear. I realized what it was and how deeply rooted it was and how selfish it is, though it has drawn out the most generous quality in me. I’d let it define me and never even knew.

This has nothing to do with wolves.