green light

The process of starting over... It's scary, nerve-racking, exciting, inexplicable. So hard to open up. To express those feelings that only so few know. To be myself despite the struggle and desire to be accepted. I carry my shell with me; crawling into it is so much easier. My shell...My facade?

There are rules to it all. Frustrating rules that I don't want to obey. Who decided they had the right, the gumption, the omnicience to establish such boundries. Who really cares? If things go well, why can't we just flow with that? Time frames... Safe topics... Phone calls...

I guess my feeling is just that at this age, at this time in our lives, after - and based on - all our previous experiences, we have an idea of what we want... What we're looking for. If we find it, why can't we just reach out, grasp it, and hold onto it. Why do we have to keep it at arms' length for just the right amount of time until it's permissable to clutch it close.

Eventually it will work out... Eventually I'll find what everyone else has and will share that scintellating, contended smile. I'm just impatient.