I have a long and logical and timely entry half-written in my head and 1/4-written on the computer, but I don't care about that right now. It's really far too rare that I just sit down and write.

I feel so much, sometimes. Right now I am exhausted and my head hurts and I want to go to bed, but all I can do is sit here staring at the screen trying to figure out how to say what I want to say.

I care about people. I often-- "usually" is probably more accurate-- do a really shitty job of connecting with people, but I care about them. Sometimes I feel it so much I want to burst, or cry, or scream. Or write.

I love people. I love people who don't love me back, because I don't do the right things to be a part of their lives in the way I'd need to. I let myself drift and don't put in the effort to build and/or maintain relationships, and then I look at how things are and I get this weird strong feeling that I have now, the dizzy beautiful aching feeling of love and the emptiness that comes when that love is not part of a friendship but a floating and seperate thing in my head and my heart. It hurts. Love is such a potent thing that I suppose it's only natural there should be so many ways that it's painful. It's this one that strikes me right now and keeps me up at night: the contrast it illuminates between the closeness that should be or could be, and the distance that is. I don't do enough to change that. I don't know if there's enough that I can do.

I'm incoherent. I don't think I let myself be incoherent in here nearly as much as I should.  ¶ 1:50 AM