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As I sit here tonight propped up against pillows on the bed
I cannot help but feel torn between my heart and my head.
I consider all we've shared of anger, hurt, joy, love, and laughter
so sublime...and somehow I cannot reconcile the split between
our valleys and our peaks...they are equal in stature of majestic
heights and depths that only the two of us meet. Introspection,
retrospection, indigestion, all come forth to greet...as I sit here
tonight and think...all for the love of Andy.
My therapist says I'm an Andyholic, as though it were a filthy,
dirty word...but times like these to me, it's the most beautiful
I've heard...especially during moments when I allow myself to
see within my heart, the prayer for which I never want to part,
then I remember that technically we have...but that's only the
surface of the walls we've erected so we think we're protected,
yet all the while feeling rejected...but should I do as expected
by my shrink...all for the love of Andy?
I rearrange the pillows and think on just what that would take;
to “get with the Program” so to speak, ...I hesitate, wondering
which way is best...twelve steps forward, or twelve steps back?
To let love grow or regress? What to do for the love of Andy...
Is Andy there? Does Andy care? Would it matter if I stayed?
Or is it better to move on and pretend we never played? Never
Loved? Never met? Pretend our hearts weren't broke into or that
we never wept? I can't tell if I'm better off with or without you.
I hear the scooting of a chair interrupt my reveries...and look up
to see a roomful of eyes staring at me...I shakily stand and wobble
forward on my feet. It's my turn to speak:
"Hello...my name is Raggedy Ann...and I'm an Andyholic."
~ Soulstar
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