Out!

Get me out. Gotta run, fly, escape. Gotta push my boundries. Gotta see the world. Gotta make something of myself.

"What about me?" they ask, each in their own way, "What about what we had together, the promises, the dreams, the foregone conclusions? What about the neat little niches I built in my psyche, just big enough to fit my view of you in? What about me?"

And to that, I am speechless and cannot reply. For I care. And in my caring, I am bound with ropes stronger than steel, built of heartstrings, and tied in stammering knots of regret, belief, need, and guilt.

What about you indeed.