I just don't think sometimes.
I give away the things I love.
Almost every time. The things/people/memories to cherish.

Why?

Should I wall away? Hunker down?
Wait a while longer, the gypsy said to me.

Conserve.

My heart grows bitter and I sit alone,
obsessing on could be, might have been.

Stop! I say. Stop this spiral.

Is this what middle age means to someone with my experiences?
My life spans before me.

Like a truck with bad axles, I shiver and moan.
Jolting from side to side.
Down the road into the unknown.

What is it I fear?

What is it that keeps my mind from quiet?
My thoughts create my own reality.
I have know this for a long time.

And yet I continue to be the seed that gets planted,
never allowing myself to take root.

How do I change this?

How do I teach myself to thrive?