Wonder of wonders

I figure it was a bad move to have published that poem. The person in name hasn't responded or gotten the message. Maybe I should wait.

Maybe I am pushing it.

Maybe I'm not.

I really don't know anymore.

All I know is that I think about them too often and that I wish I was talking to them day and night. That's all. Nothing about love or anything. If there's a chance, God would probably show me it.

Then again there's a saying that if God closes one door on you with a brick wall he'll offer you a thousand other keys for free. Raw deal if you ask me. Out of that one thousand - which one would be the one?

I contemplate too much on this issue because I feel that emotional satisfaction deals directly with the sense of security within me. Others find that their careers are the ones that provide that feeling. I'm not one of those people. I've been like this since I was a child. Sensitive? So what? I'd rather be this than that. People with careers go on (and this is not a generalization) with their lives like there's no tomorrow and give no importance to settling down. What if the train rides by and stops somewhere far far away to a point you can't take yourself to anymore? What then?

I may not have a job but I think about these things always and logically before giving way to emotional desires. Especially matters of the heart.

I really don't know what to do anymore.