I am the bane of my own existence.

Sex. Once in two years.

Love. Twice in one life.

Two things I would very much like to have again before I die.

Is the desire for these things greater than the reality of them? Sometimes, but not always.

There is time enough for both these things, but there is not always enough time to use these two things to their fullest potential.

I have failed and have been failed, in both sex and love.

They are not the be-all, end-all of existence, but they sure make passing the time on this dusty ol' planet good for a few laughs.

I miss my laughter, too.

Is envy an appropriate emotion for someone who knows what they're missing? Is it ever appropriate? Is regret?

I don't regret having had those things. But I do regret having lost them.

Autumn is here and winter is not far behind. Rain will turn to snow, snow will turn to rain.

How does loneliness turn to company?

I am not who I once was, and that has me worried. There was a time, long ago, when I wasn't so damned content, when I was still shaping my heart for the next day.

I miss you, whoever you are. Are you out there, watching me? See how I dance.