This whole time, I was just afraid. Of you, of myself, of our similarities. Of the way we'd feed off of each others insecurities. Sometimes, I get that spontaneous hit of reality whereby, suddenly, "none of that matters anymore; work!school!work!school!" Just as easily snapping back into my intuitive, everyday world, governed by boys & cynicism. Self-destruct, forget, rise again stronger (or maybe just absolved of real thought.) Rinse & repeat. I'm afraid, still. Afraid that I'll never find someone like you, again. Why I'd want someone like you, again, is beyond me. --- I'm lost, but don't get me wrong; I'm content, or at least as close to contentment as someone like me can possibly be.