I love walking

I love reading

I love writing

Still I struggle to do these, to accomplish one more step, one more chapter to read, one more line to jot down.

I love my friends and family

And I don’t tell them enough.

Why must I be so cold, if warmth runs through my soul.

I fill the days, fill the time and space with stuff, fill my head with not much substance, mental pillows, it’s all just fluff.

Is it like that for the rest of the world? For our feelings, our guilt, our joy, our love

For everything we’ve been bestowed

We love so much and do not show.

– A. Garcia