Poetry & Pain

I have tons of hand-written journals. Today I was reading through one of them. I stumbled upon one of the most poetic things I've written, though at the time I'm quite sure it wasn't my intention to be artistic. I remember exactly how I felt. I wonder if anyone else has ever felt this way.

"Once I had his undivided attention, I became extremely self-conscious. I realized there was nothing I could say or do to impress him or make him like me more than he does, and yet I was getting sucked into the spiraling vortex of his beauty and energy. I felt as though I were dying slowly and yet needing his very presence beside me every second just to stay breathing. When he's near me, I need him like air and I want to be with him every second, every breath forever. Yet knowing I can't be with him is the heaviest suffocating choking pain."

Wow. I guess I should put my old journals away and go exercise or something.

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