and everytime [I touch you] you just tremble inside

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering – these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love – these are what we stay alive for." [Dead Poet's Society]

Human relationships fascinate me. The love hate relationship between two people who won’t admit their attraction for one another; a domestic dispute between two people in love; the good girl from Park Avenue and the street boy; the untamable shrew wooed by the rugged stranger; the misdirected burnout who takes Mary Jane to the prom. The bad girl over the good girl, it seems.

I’m still not self-actualized; still, I have such a hella way to go. But my perspectives have been breathed into, somehow. And I’ll get back, slowly, pull myself together.
I couldn’t escape my own thoughts, feeling INside, looking only at my own self and what I felt of the world. Why, this world is so much magnified, 10 times at least, because everything I see is intensified. I must be the most self-absorbed person I’ve ever met.

People say, they say that it’s just a phase. They tell me to act my age. Well I am.

Things seem to be consuming me. It isn't any wonder that I feel like taking two steps backwards, and then perhaps another two, and then throwing up my hands and saying that I have come now to the end. I am not well enough, not smart enough, or beautiful enough, together enough, to love enough, to give enough. Enough. Enough, not enough.

I feel more than ever that there is something wrong with me. Why am I still alone? I guess I'm just torturing myself wondering when my life is going to start.