Late Night Honesty: Draft Three

I can always feel the fade to back coming . The fade back to reality . Conversations get shorter. Questions stop being asked . The spark dies , if there ever really was one to begin with. I don't know that there was. Maybe I wanted it to be. But wanting something doesn't make it real . And wishing for something doesn't mean it will come. It's like I can feel the exact moment where they lose interest; each time always different than the last. But it always stings. Like a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol on a freshly skinned knee; the intensity still shocks me. I don't think I'll ever get used to the redundancy of the continuous cycle of introductions and goodbyes . I can feel my heart hardening and my perspective closing . Guards are reforming . And I fear that "the one" will be met with this newfound resistance and uncertainty. Because everyone claims they're different but they're just a different kind of the same. My head hurts , my heart does too. The fade back never gets easier.