Walking a day in someone else's shoes

Walking a day in someone else’s shoes always seemed like a piece of cake; different perspectives were so my game.

Why am I finding it hard to decide where to draw the line between understanding and loosing myself?
How often must I accommodate?
How many times must I suppress the frustration?
How many excuses can I conjure up?
The logistics are there… Something isn’t.
What though…
... what?
It shouldn’t be this hard and it most certainly shouldn’t be this draining.
It’s entirely unfair to more than just me.

I don’t want a quick fix…
I don’t want the million pieces super glued together in an attempt to resemble a notion in my head.
I want things to fall and land on their feet.
I want 9 lives.
I want truth… not a water downed version of it… not clippings of it but the whole celluloid reel.
I want butterflies and pink skies.
I want exposition without an unveiling.
I want fireworks without the show and most of all I want chemistry without the smoke.