I am attracted to people that make beautiful things. Music, movies, characters, books, paintings, words, friendships, smiles, auras. So much so that my love of what the give to the world distorts their image to me. I can't picture them other than what they are to me, rather than the image of their first impression. So I have, in my mind, a distorted image of every individual that I know. At that point I find it hard to judge weather or not someone is good looking. It's a ridiculous question. They aren't hot, or ugly, they are their face and the combination of every action and thought that lies beneath their skull.
I don't like this, ensnaring of my dreams. It is a complete contradiction of everything I was taught as a child. That anything was possible. I don't like this stress. I don't like school, I don't like being sick. Man Oh Nah Oh. Things confuse me, upset me, stress me out and push me. I like having matching undergarments. I like being home alone. I like these prospects, but I the amount of effort they will demand of me just might break me.
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