To be continued???

So here I sit, almost 9 months exactly to the day when my heart was shattered and stomped to pieces. I had no one to talk to about it thus sending me into a downward spiral into the depths of depression which I honestly wished ended in more dramatically "tragic" fashion, but it did not. I was pulled up by the helping hand of a stranger. One who I had thought would finally lead me to the light of happiness. Little did I know that after a summer of deception and (looking back) painfully obvious awkwardness, I'd be sitting in this same chair contemplating sleeping forever, but this time in solitary confinement so there would be no more mirages to draw me out only to kick me in the gut Sparta style right back into that rut of dislogic and smut...
It just seems that I'm meant to be alone. It wouldn't have been so bad if I weren't (whether intentionally or not) mislead into thinking there was something at the top of that ladder to the proverbial mistletoe of love...What can I say, once again, I was thinking with my heart, though I saw behind the eyes of a fallen angel stricken by tragedy, she still didn't notice me. She used a word that I consider more heartbreaking to hear (and then subsequently get abruptly roundhouse kicked back to the bottomless pit of Sparta...err, uh, depression) than that four letter word that usually send guys running, love. No, she used a word that went far beyond that...perfect. Perfect is the most fucked up word in the English language because it implies that there is NOTHING wrong with it. Now, maybe it's just me, but if I hear perfect, I get those butterflies and think, maybe this is her...maybe I've dried up the well which contained the liquid repulsion and found this new well of hope...the honest truth is I'm not perfect. Hell, whatever the opposite of perfect is, flawed, mess, whatever, that's what I am, and I full well know acknowledge and embrace my place in the scale of perfection...the lowest.
Truthfully, she was perfect; gorgeous, she had an amazing personality and never failed to make me smile whether it be online, texts, calls, whatever, it always brightened my day. She's the last thought before bed and the first when I wake up. She exemplifies everything I could ever want in a girl, except for one thing, mutual love. I don't know if I could go as far as saying I loved her yet, but I'd say it's pretty close. I knew full well going into it that I wasn't perfect and I knew her heart was reserved for another, but when she called me perfect, I thought that was my cue to take the reigns and finish the race with her by my side.

Now honestly,. I don't know when/if I'll update this again because I have a lot of searching and thinking to do, but let me end with this final metaphor for my current situation.
It's the bottom of the ninth, 2 outs, bases loaded, we're down by 1 and the guy behind me is Mr. Clutch...I'm up to bat, it's a 2-0 count. The pitch comes in and it's a ball. I got a 3-0 count. the odds of striking out now are slim to none. I most likely will either get a hit or walk...Next pitch, a lollipop curveball that drops in for a strike, Ok, I can deal, caught me off guard, it's cool. Next pitch, blazing 98 mph fastball right down the pike, I swing as hard as I can and foul it off. I know I can catch up, I made contact and I'm ready for this guy once again. He throws a 63 mph change-up right down the middle of the plate, and I swing so hard and so early, that by the time my bat is around and back on my shoulder and I stare in disbelief, the ball is just hitting the glove. I crumple to a heap in the dirt...defeated. This was to be my retirement game, and I hadn't told anyone, but I would have afterwards when I was clutching my trophy. Beforehand, I went out and bought a beautiful trophy stand that I was hoping to display proudly...But now that I had torn my rotator cuff and shattered my wrist swinging for the fences, my career was over. My trophy stand now sits at the foot of my bed, empty. It'll stay there, taunting and haunting me, while I go into my deep slumber hoping to achieve that aforementioned "tragic" ending to such a miserable existence...

Thanks for everything.
Much love,
"Nitro" Nick Murphiez