Hung

I'm a mess of contradictions: my head and heart are heavy, yet completely void of resolve, of stamina or intent.  I have so much to say, but I can't begin to put it down; I'm not entirely sure of myself.  I want to shake off what's been and start fresh, but I feel a foreknowledge of guilt and shame, enough to stop me in my tracks.  I'm a method actor living a handful of imaginary lives, none of which resemble what I thought my life would be.  My heart is filled with longing and deflated by loneliness.  Conventional wisdom says, "Listen to your heart," but what if my heart is lying to me?