tygerblade

I've dedicated so much of my life to just getting by, making ends meet, paying my bills on time like a good little boy. I implode my emotions inside, before they reach the surface, where they can do damage to others. I don't want to be my father, calm and contained one moment, then raging out of control the next, not caring who he hurts, or hits. But I'm so much like him all the same--the only difference is that the rage never gets out. My life passes me by in a fog, while I'm dreaming. And I don't put myself out there, and take chances, because chances can kill. I love women with my whole heart, but in secret, where they can't see. I watch them fall in love with other men, and say nothing, because deep down I know they're better off without me. And my emotions implode, and rip my insides to shreds, and I smile lopsidedly so no one sees. And I die a little more inside each day. I have talent, but no one will ever know. Because it's the price I pay, to keep my emotions inside. I will never be my father. And perhaps that makes him a better man than I.