something I'm considering something very stupid. And the more I think about it the less scary it feels. Which isn't usually how rash, irrational urges work with me. Mostly it's fear, more fear, close my eyes, oh fuck-- well it's too late now. But this makes me calm and excited and happy and sad -- like turning the last page of a really, really good book I've lived with for a long time. That's not urge material. It's my gut, and my heart, and all the hungry childish things, and all the lofty ideals I've stuffed into the back of the drawer (where it's safe and dusty) suddenly dancing and screaming and celebrating and -- the more I think of it-- the more scared I feel that I won't do this or have this or be this stupid. |