Sadness

I have more regrets than there are stars in this clear, May sky. Don't be sad for me though. Be angry. Be fed-up. Be indifferent; but not sad. I have enough of it in my heart to fill the world. Please feel free to keep yours. Sadness is like a thick, wool blanket I cover myself in year-round. I long to escape these prison walls, yet I refuse to walk out the open gate. You know, that damn gate has always been open, now that I think of it. Does any of this make sense to anyone but me? While reading this, are you getting fed-up with my incessant, redundant, whining about the bad choices I continue to make. If not, perhaps this is a form of morbid entertainment. If you are tired of it, I don't blame you. I'm getting tired of writing it....