New York City — Autumn 2002

The confident look in her eyes and the self-assured sway of her hips is as fragile as glass in which a strong breeze could shatter into a million pieces. Her arsenal is the gleam in her eye, or a glimpse of her pretty smile, or simply the warm touch from her gentle hand but ultimately this is not enough. Once you start pulling the thread it’s easy to see it all unravel.

Her strength is fear. Her confidence is merely a shield to protect herself from others seeing the truth. Smoke and mirrors designed to keep them off balance, unsure and always questioning. It is her greatest weapon — to project her insecurities on to everyone else.

Haphazardly bouncing from one point to another, reaching out to empty hands which pull away, listening to promises never intended to be kept, realize once and for all you are merely a means to someone else’s end, that is, unless you take a stand and refuse to allow it anymore. We’ve all been there, listening to the words of insincere people filter through our open ears, revolving around this erratic orbit observing people too lost to make any form of commitment to anything unless it benefits them in some way. There is no real connection made. Everyone has their own agenda and you are nothing more than a stepping stone.

Therefore, stop reaching out and stop being pulled into her orbit before you become nothing more than some asymmetric comet waiting to crash and burn into some unknown sphere.