All I Can Do Is Carry On Being Me

It’s dark outside/ Across the back garden and over the road the windows of other houses spread light/ They are windows to other lives/ I could put on my coat and creep across the intervening space and peek through their windows/ I’d find people/ I’d see their worlds/ I’d perceive their idiosyncrasies and the differences between them and me/ I’d have a glimpse into their lives/ But I suspect that I don’t need to go anywhere to find out what’s in their hearts/ Despite the seeming allure of those lit-up windows and illuminated lives I suspect that those people’s hearts are no different to mine/

It’s dark in WordPress land/ Across my screen and through the comments section the lights of other intelligence shine/ Their words are portals to other lives/ I could click on links and land myself in their blogs/ I’d find people/ I’d see their secret thoughts/ I’d perceive their loves and hates and the differences between those and my own/ I’d have a glimpse into their lives/ But I suspect that I don’t need to click on anything to find out what’s in their hearts/ Despite the seeming allure of those insightful writings and the illuminated lives of their writers I suspect that these people’s hearts are no different to mine/

End of the day, the only thing I can do is to carry on being the best me that I can be and hope that someone, somewhere sees something likeable enough for them to want to look through my windows into my heart, knock on my door, say hi and then to stay for a spell, holding hands with me while the world turns and the stars rush by above our giddy little heads.