/and i feel like i'm naked in front of the crowd / 2am...

[babyblu0302]

Reading amazingly well written literature is almost as soul-stirring to me as getting lost in a breathtaking piece of music. Almost. In the same way it too is a wistful feeling..bittersweet; leaving me wishing that i possessed a beautiful mind (this feeling's extremely common, now that I think about it. It applies to so many situations. Part of this inferiority complex that plagues me, i suppose.) Wishing to be free of these defects. Deficits. Whatever they'd prefer to call them..heh, "them". An attention deficit? Not sure that the term with which I was tagged and in turn over time eventually labeled myself and bitterly accredited the majority of my flaws to is entirely accurate; I am attentive. Always paying attention.. maybe not to you..
so much effort wasted on straining to squeeze something into a glass box of normalcy, though you've realized and long since known that it'll never stay put. Am i really the stubborn one?

I need to get out more. So anxious for growth, yet crippled by the cycle.. there is an endless list things I want to accomplish, to begin, to taste. What is so terrifying about the prospect of failed experiments?

if only i could open my mouth occasionally.
Repression...

The crushing sound of a spirit.

Trying to put things to melody and lyrics helps for a moment. like anesthesia. til i hit the usual wall. will i ever scale it? Will i ever...?