i bought this journal to write in when i find myself up at night and unable to sleep...

i've written five entries so far, and they all end the same way they begin: you.

was i too open?

was i too proud?

was i too loud?

was i too giving?

was i too needing?

was i too fast?

or, was it even me? perhaps it was you? but that's irrelevant now that there's no us.

is it, for the best or for the worst?

who knows...

the only thing i'll ever know is that i never really knew or will know.

and it feels like... laying your hands on the last copy of a great book, and it's the last one left in the world, and you're forced to watch it burn, page by page, before you get to finish it.

and then you have to make up the ending in your head... and be content with it.. but you're forever forced to deal with the, "what if?".

what if?.

i have pages full of what if's ...

and the what if's are what keep me up at night.

i'm up tonight.