With the giddiness and the butterflies, I feel so incredibly ridiculous. There have been times in my life when what you just said would have made me uncomfortable. And, to be honest, it did a little. Only because I can't control how you feel, and I have this extreme desire to be in control. I, myself am spinning out of it.
I am glad to hear that I am not your social experiment. I could see you doing that to someone, perhaps, and it does make me happy that it is not me. You don't need to know my inner workings, I believe that is why they are 'inner' and not outer. That I can even matter at all, makes me feel giddy.
Frightened. Yes, you could use that word. I am terrified, scared, reluctant, apprehensive. Yes, excited too. Excited for... I'm not sure exactly, but I have a new found energy and desire to take on the world.
Who does this? Us apparently. I think it was in that moment actually that I realized how my 'inner workings' were indeed working. Which makes it almost easy to rationalize as an association. It's becoming increasingly hard to do so.
You couldn't make a fool out of yourself by being honest, and, for the moment at least I'm accepting it as honesty. I am one for honesty, even if it is spoken in metaphors and everywhere but in the bush. Yes, I think you decoded yourself very well, indeed. For now I cannot even focus on this so important 'work' which I'm supposed to be doing.
Ah yes, I had completely forgotten that I'm being a dirty whore by entertaining these notions in my mind. I shouldn't do that, forget. For in forgetting I become the thing in this world which I despise the most - and fear that hating myself is immanent if we continue on as we seem to be.
It is nice to hear your voice, to see your smile. To feel those butterflies and pitter-patter. However, I am all for nothing.
I know that I need to pause. I'm tumbling so fast, I need to catch my breath. To realize, to analyze, to compromise - perhaps. I need for you to be happy, to make sense of the world in which you are roaming - even if the sense you make is nonsense. I need to come to a place where I can stop. Stop analyzing, stop rejecting, stop reading so much in to every thing. Stop fidgeting, stop wondering.
Even now I turned my "squee! teehee" into something darker, for in my happiness at decodation, I had forgotten.
P.S. I would rather be looking for literature and eating pizza, though. What does that mean?