Sometimes

Sometimes I think too long and start to worry that I have forgotten how to be me. Sometimes I wonder why I still do some of the things that I do. Sometimes I miss the person I used to be. Sometimes fear and loathing seep into my vision of the future. Sometimes.

There are other times though. Times that my swagger can’t be controlled. Times that I feel powerful and wise. Times that are happy. The best times are short, barely a second. Glimpses of my bride in the faces of my daughters. Stolen kisses and secret glances. Those times are nice. Yeah.