this year my life has consistent thematic content, symbolic to the point of redundancy. i keep trying to tell myself that life never gives you more than you can take, that eventually something has to be my saving grace. borrowed ideas from times when i had faith in things, faith in me. i'd really like to talk to someone. according to facebook.com i have 185 AU friends. judging by the fact that this week i've seen two movies, eaten out six times, frequented two bars, & went to a party last night, it's not a lack of options. it's a lack of intimacy & trust. it's about how even when i talk more than my half i rarely say what i'm really feeling, mostly because it's so much easier to listen. but i need to meet someone that asks the right questions & shares their opinion. i can't stand trying to gauge the look on your face & feeling like a brand new show for your critics scruntiny, i can't stand being told i'm too happy just because i have a cheerful disposition. i can't stand the fact that everyone else is allowed to call crisis intervention for things i swallow on my own daily as they come. i can't stand wondering if you realize how unfair my entire existence has been lately just because i'm too proud to ask for sympathy. i'm sick of being passive, writing to nobody in particular and getting frustrated when nobody writes back. i'm tired of talking to myself just to get it out. we ask the polite questions but never find the path back to what's really on our minds. i interject funny tidbits in the middle of your narrative, probably come off as pre-occupied. but i promise i'm listening. there's a battle between my reoccuring dreams of progressing past this and the story you left incomplete. some days you just wish somebody would take both your hands, sit you down, and tell you to just keep talking until you find clarity. i could meander my way through multitudes if you would only get me started.