My stupid mouth.

It's got me in trouble again. I'm back to song lyrics but they sum up the world so aptly. I want so desperately to help people but I make it worse, so much worse. And every time I see someone get hurt, or lash out because of something I said, I die a little. Because I can't help when I want to. I've always wanted to be that guy that helped people. Who said what someone needed to hear.

But that never happens. And nothing ever turns out the way I wanted it to. Nothing ever comes remotely close.

I want to talk to somebody about this but the people who I normally do... well one of them I'm not sure I trust with this, one of them I'm not sure I trust at all. One of them is asleep and the other ones pissed off with me. Aren't I lucky. I get to sit in my misery, safe in the knowledge that even If I talked to someone about this I'd wake up tomorrow and still not be able to help people. I'm that tall guy, nothing more, nothing less. And it seems I always will be.

The bitter taste in my mouth won't go away. The taste of sorrow. Because I made her cry and I didn't even know. I feel wretched. Nobody should feel this way. And I wish I didn't. But I do. And I have to live with it. That's my price. And I don't want to pay it. But all must pay their dues. Faith would be a handy thing right now. So would courage, or any of the other things I lack. Tact chief among these things.

Yes a sense of tact would have saved me many headaches and heartaches.

Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be a soldier. A stereotypical good soldier from the military perspective. One who follows orders. To be told when to sleep, when to eat, when to kill. Never having to think. Just follow orders. And some days I wish that I lived a life like that. Other day's I'm fairly sure I'd kill the bugler, just to get a few more minutes sleep.

Love is hard, life is hard. I need to get used to the fact. But I don't want to accept it.