I'm not perching on my high horse, I have no high horse, nor can I perch on anything and I'd rather not have to get off that alleged high horse and shovel the horse shit. No, I don't have a horse.

Practice what you preach may be the hardest damn thing anyone could ever do but goddamn, I'm trying very hard. There's no self pity here, just a rolling stone. Continuously tumbling and when it  hits a creek it morphs into the cool waters that cascades, eventually, into the sea. The vastness of the oceans mimic my untapped emotions which I've learned to shut down. Victimless, it finds its way elsewhere. Fuel to burn.

Places to go, people to see, things to do. Always in motion, none the stagnation of vulnerability. None. The stench of depression reeks through the air amongst my friends and family but I am yet unaffected. I wear a mask that filters it out. It's all happy butterflies, unicorns and rainbows in my head. Okay, I lied. The inside of my head smells of injustice, occasional hurt and uncertainty. It's dark, Film Noir dark. I narrate my actions in black and white and it's raining. What I put on my face, that beaming smile, that happy giggle and the glint in my eye. Lies. Half the time I feel cold and dead inside.

Cold.

Dead.

The years are passing by quick, now. So quickly that one day I could look in the mirror and see greying hair and smile lines. Maybe eventually I'll be pleased with what I've built. I have a long way to go. My empire. The fall of which would be devastating to me. I do it for those I love unconditionally.

Then there's the part of me that feels completely useless in a crowd. I would love to help. I dislike being coddled but the fact remains. Stiff upper lip, heart as far away from my sleeve as possible. Be still my beating...

An open mind shall I keep for the coming months, an open heart shall I keep for the whole year.

Dragons be good to me.