I want to really write about what I feel. But how does it matter any more? Writing makes me happy,but what I want to write about, well let's just say,does not really make me jump with joy. Have you ever reached a place where turning back seems impossible BUT is the only choice you have? Yes, there is a choice, if you are one of those people who are looking out for positives in every situation. Hope- yes that's the word. I seem to be on that road. My choice. Break the barricades and let gravity pull me. [Still hate Newton. I mean he is a choice here. Perhaps the unavoidable one.] Not getting started on physics and trying to really write about how I feel. A person's biggest fear, today, is not making an impression. My biggest fear, talking to someone whose fear isn't the one I think it should be [ because you always want to be distinctly different from others. Also, I am writing, remember?] Yes THE feeling. I am one of those people who tend to drift away from the topic rapidly. So this feeling is like someone asks you," Did you eat the brownies? The double chocolate brownies? "And you honestly say "Yeah I did" and if that wasn't it, you Burp. And then that someone [son of a bitch] tells you to give them the brownie back. And and and you just stare and say- YOU MAD BRO? This is one those shitty feelings you get when you realize that Kurt Cobain died way before you even knew about his existence and when you did, he was all you ever wished to be/be with. One of those feelings when you could start crying even if you saw a poor kid crying at the signal because you felt as helpless as he did. [JUST an example.My idea of charity is different.] The feeling when you could never watch the concert you always wanted to be a part of. The feeling when you wish there was just one moment where you could hug someone and time would stop just then and you could actually "seize" the "moment". 

Nope. Thought talking about it would help me stop tearing the moist edges of the paper I am writing on. [I type later. I like being specific for no reason] or purposely writing on the teardrops to be amused at the patterns of smudged ink.
Still, not really happy...