Trying

It’s not like it matters what I say or what I do

It’s not for the love of god

or even the love of you

it’s because inside my head it’s all that I won’t rue

any more than I regret anything

it’s true

being imperfect

I cannot make a perfect choice

I will always regret the imperfections in my actions

because by regretting them, I force myself to view them

and in viewing, and reviewing, them

I find a course of action that

while still imperfect

might be better for next time

problems come from my not knowing what the problem is

because then I have to guess

and second guess

and while my guesses are usually good

my second guessing always bites

and, to make it clear

I always act how I think I should

except when I can’t handle being good, or nice, or kind anymore

those seem to be more of an act than my absolute rage

because I can’t fake anger

not really

not so I can feel it in my skin

that tingling is only skin deep

but clearly true

I can fake happiness

I learned that quick

while a sigh at times makes you human

nobody wants to be around someone who’s always complaining

whining

bitching

moaning

about just how horrible everything is

or someone who’s just being plain nasty

common saying says

you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar

you catch more friends with smiles than with tears

though, ultimately

tears are the real test.