void and illusion

nothing is easy. two am brings no more conclusions than twenty one years of trying. the problem is, i've stopped trying. and asking. so it's a blessing that the people in my life still do ask questions because i've forgotten how important--even necessary--they are. and nothing is easy. and everything is hard and coming home, even though it strains every time, is the proof of my attatchment, ultimately my love. and it only hurts and angers because i'm attatched. and i'm okay with that but to not be understood and fully embraced turns the blade. and i'm tired and i could cry about it but i stiffen my neck as not to compromise my beliefs. that's all they're doing, too. i understand. so i find myself once again in the question, in the stiffening and straining and always returning to the roots. i'll keep coming back and i hope that in some akward, broken way displays the love i have. unconditional.