Man Crush

I admire the person you are,

not only for what you do,
but for the way you move through the world
like it belongs to you.

I admire your confidence,
your freedom, your unguarded smile,
even your thirst trap photos, 
bold, unashamed, alive.

They hold the shape
of things I once wanted
or maybe still want,
for myself.

In a strange, 

quiet way,
you make me want 

to keep fighting.

I am turning thirty-five,
and I still feel
like I am trying to figure life out,
as if I ever truly did.

They say it’s never too late.
But it feels late
when you are chained
to responsibilities you once set aside

When your mind carries scars
from an upbringing 

that bruised softly
but lasted long.

From experiences 

that carved too deep,
from the rooms that taught you
to survive by detaching.

I was not always this distant.
I did not 

mean to become

someone harder to reach.

Being open now
feels like walking barefoot on glass.
Staying positive
feels rehearsed.

Trusting people
feels like stepping off a ledge
and hoping the ground remembers
how to hold you.

And when things fall apart,
they do not just fall.
They collapse.
Heavier each time.

They say failure makes you stronger.

They say it redirects you
to the right path.

But what if there was never a clear path?

What if failure
did not forge steel,
but only wore 

me down?

If failure builds strength,
why do I feel
more broken
than built?