Did you manage to run out of loneliness? Cheer up, I may have some to spare. Charming little boy with your bright little mind, you think you've got the world at your feet and you probably do. But what drew me to you was neither your disarming smile nor your ambiguous compliments; it was the promise of depth in your cute eyes, a hint of chaos behind composed features- or was that nothing more than a projection of my most secret fantasies?

Thus spoke the wrinkled old lady to her imaginary lover- being delusional makes the aging process easier. People are terrifying, better stick to cats and butterflies. Can inspiration be aspirational or is aspiration naturally inspirational? This is totally irrelevant; oh please don't let the blinding sun shine in the face of my dreams. What's happening, my words used to almost make sense, now surreal impressions of non-ideas run amok in my head.

I fear I'm changing. I've left my trembling self behind, and will you recognize me? Will you still experience a certain sense of inexplicable attraction? But no, it was only a game for you from the start; after all, you're accustomed to getting everyone's attention. Still, even though I was fully conscious of the irony, I somehow couldn't resist the lure of a few moments in your shadow. Is it because I'm prone to vanity? Is it because I latently believe I deserve the agony?

Stop. Stop revolving around your own reflection. Cease your tossing and turning and disguising the slightest turbulence as a typhoon. Put your surgical knife aside, attempt to actually experience your emotions instead of dissecting them. Why can't you focus on the outside world, for a change?