I enjoy writing quite a bit, in fact I am attempting to write a book. Please, you don't want to even know how it's going... but I find a certain sense o therapy in writing and have decided to not only do it for myself, but shove it down everybody else's throat. Here's a little something I wrote today, I call it "Unlocking Clenched Knuckles."

“I’m here for you,” those had been the words that were always wished to be spoken, were screaming through my eyes. There were no caresses, no sweet talk, but solid, stout speech, as if we were already at a later stage in our lives. Like we understood each other on the basest levels and irreversibly loved each other for them. I knew you put me on a pedestal and that you got caught up in our emotional miscommunication. You knew I was still piecing together myself from recent spills and haphazard battles, you saw that I was hot-headed and stubborn, but you were too. But, nevertheless, “I’m here for you,” was all that came to mind when we silently and resolutely sat next to each other. I’m sure there were things in me you never fully comprehended, as am I positive in those regards to you. You see, when we spoke, when we were together, it was as if I spoke to a part of myself, that I was truly complete. But I cannot be here any longer. When you left, I promised to stay and wait, to be here. I knew it was the harder side of you leaving, with choosing leaving being your lot. I acknowledged that it ran a narrow line with being a fool, but I was a fool when it came to all things considering you. But what do you do when half of the one is nowhere to be seen, no sign of showing. My greatest fear is that someone has filled my place. Am I was so easily replaced? While I feel, with great certainty, that you will never be substituted. So my question is, what did you wish to say, those unspoken words between us when I tried to utter my complete and total surrender to us, where you trying to claw your way away from me?