Last Call For Drinks

I am not used to being awestruck. It's funny how time can seem so slow at times and others, pass by without even warning us. I sit down for a minute and it becomes an hour. This translucent, effervescent barrier that I linger on beckons me to continue, and yet, I don't want to. Please tell me I have, and am making, the right decision. For an eternity I have peered out my window into the calm summer nights and the cold winter down pours, hopeless of all that lay before me and as I suddenly poke my head over the crest of this hill, I find myself wondering the same thing; will I become what I have feared the most? Become a wash-up, obsessive, failure of a person, of a man? Or should I pursue the same goal of one day waking up side by side with that of which I have dreamed of? I half enjoy this taste of bitterness. It makes me feel that all that I have wanted has not been put in-front of me. That I have had to work for something to call it my own, but this struggle, both internal and external do not show any signs of changing seasons. Let all of the world stand still, even if it just be for a moment, to recognize that I have tried my best. Although this alone would not satisfy my desire for the only thing I have clung onto over these long nights, the idea of the most sophomoric of interaction with that one person. And I do this for you I think, but you will never see. You will never know. So I think these things done in vain because I know that I will never be able to impress you. I cannot sway your affection. And as I drink in this sorrow until delirium, I know that I will not stop pursuing, not mulling what I have done and not done, and not stop dreaming of the day when you will give me a chance to look you clear in the eye and say what I have been wanting to say for such a long long time.