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All Good and All Bad: Tortured by The Flip Side

I’ve got fire in my belly and ice in my veins.
I’m hot-tempered and [sometimes] cool under pressure.
I’m grandiose and self-deprecating.
Naive and suspicious.
Gullible and paranoid.
I can change but I want to.
I want you to love me but I set the bar impossibly high, desperately hoping you’ll try to surmount it.
I don’t know if Paradoxes are forgivable,
and I don’t even know if I care.
But I hope I do.
And I hope we are.
I hope we’re all forgivable.
At this point, at the very least, I have to forgive myself,
even if no one else does.

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I’m in need of forgiveness, too. I Chris Wattsed this poem (When and Why did I draft my it? I don’t know why I wrote it!), but I did so on October 8th, an important and familiar date. Shame on me for choosing hate and humiliate of my self-expression on the undefined mystery date.

Will you read it some now to relieve and reprieve me some how? I’m not especially tied to it but I definitely don’t want to DIE for it!