Did you ever see a robin weep when leaves begin to die?

I wish I could sing.  I could keep myself company in a way that doesn't make me look crazy.  But as it is, all I hear when I sing is a mish-mash of uncertain wobbly notes.  It makes me feel sick.  So i'm trying to take my mind off of this empty house by listening to some of my favourite albums.

The first was a bad choice.  I imagine the second will be too.  And the third.  I almost can't listen to the majority of my iTunes at the moment.  Anything I'm in the mood for is so depressing, and the lyrics seem to be mocking me.  Mocking my thoughts.

It seems there is nothing I can do.  I'm being honest and open, but everything I say seems to come out wrong.  Other people are not helping the matter.  This is why I truly like so few people, which probably leads on to why I'm sitting here on my own.  There are now very, VERY few people I trust fully.  I can count them on one hand, with fingers to spare.

My mind is a tumultuous storm of thoughts.  I want this to work so much.

I now talk to you directly.

I love you for who you are.  Nothing more, nothing less.  You can be anyone you want to be.  I will never stop you from doing something you want to do.  You are incredibly intelligent, fantastically funny and terribly talented.  Props for the alliteration? No? Not here? Ok.

You are my rock.  My best and closest friend.  I know I can talk to you about anything, and you will listen.  Intently.  I know that you will give me the best advice you can.

If there is one wish I can make, it is that you will give us a second chance.

I don't want to lower myself to begging.  I want there to be something I can do, or say, to help you make your mind up.

To answer your earlier question, deep in my heart of hearts?  I think we would be foolish to walk away from this without having a decent crack at making it work.

Please, tell me if I'm wrong, but when I was telling you about how I felt Friday night, I can only assume your silence meant you felt the same.

If I can still give you butterflies, like you give me, then surely, that means something?

I'm so lonesome I may cry.