Random Babblings of an Enigmatic Eric

(For the record, this was all neatly composed in paragraphs, but Blogger refused to publish it that way. Probably because I exude such self confidence in it.) I feel like going quiet for a while. All this trying is wearing me out. I'm feeling a bit ill again. Looking at me, I seem the picture of health - almost. I workout SIX days a week, so there better be some proof of it. I do have to walk with a cane at times, and, if it's not part of a Halloween costume, there's no way you can feel young and sexy while walking with a cane. Trust me on that. I'd love to be able to head to NYC or P-Town for a while, but I fear I'm just too damn slow. You have no idea, this self-conscious paralysis. God, I need a change. I'm not sleeping well. Meditation doesn't seem to be working, and I am in constant discomfort and/or pain because of my condition. There's nothing they - the doctors - can do about it, and I'm pretty good at bearing pain. But sometimes it's more the emotional tole that pain takes than the physical that gets to me. I feel like I'm bitching. I hate blabbering on about my issues, but I need to get it off my chest somewhere, right? Just every now and then. I've met someone recently - well, somewhat recently, we've actually known about one another for quite a while - and he makes me smile more than anyone has in a very long time. But I'm nervous. What if I'm not what he needs. What if I'm too slow for him. What if, as has happened in past relationships, my strange illness scares him off. He's so much more than I deserve. I know that sounds maudlin, but I truly believe that. (I'm itching to delete this paragraph; I hope he doesn't read it.) Think positive, right? The last TEN years have chipped away at my positive thinking. The accident, TWO deadly bouts of pneumonia, brain surgery. LAST YEAR chipped away at my positive thinking. I have never been light-hearted, despite my efforts to show otherwise. My smile is a great mask. I have walls and walls around me. Every time I knock one down, there's another I had forgotten about. And then there's the writing. I really love it, and that's a "blessing", but I don't know how much longer I can do it. Monetarily, it's not the best career to get into. Maybe I should have gone to travel/tourism school like I originally intended. And finally, my life's theme: I crave solitude, but I hate being alone. Where's the compromise there. I don't want to die in a hospital, and I don't want to die alone. I've said too much. I'm calling in my self-confidence, because we all know, self-confidence is sexy.