It's a beautiful day - all I can think about is how did I get so old so fast and of what could have been. Not having much romance in my life has left a wound that at this point ain't gonna heal. Summertime might be the most painful time (well maybe next to the holidays that make me suicidal) to be alone and regretful. The not so funny reality is that I still can see the reflection of that young man who expected to fall hard and fast into a bed of roses with that blonde haired blued-eyed nymph savior. Well he wilted and blew away along with any optimism that was left in his depleted being. So here sits the ancient self, listening to old rock and roll, trying to remember what doctor he has to see this week and still trying so damn hard to drown the internal critic. People say there is still time, well maybe, maybe not. I just know that sometimes I forget how far down the road I've traveled only to be alone and not fooled anymore by promise. I am a stranger in this world. Some things I love music, warm breezes and ham. However, I feel like I've never really touched anything.