This is all about something so small; I went out with fun people last night and I just wasn't very much fun. At moments, I was downright unpleasant. I'm an unlovely creature at times.
In general, people are really kind to me. I'm not often as generous, in general. Especially behind the eyes.
We're all just really scared I think. Scared that things are going to fall apart around us. Scared of the truth of things. Scared of how we feel and think. Scared of what everyone else feels and thinks.
How will I ever balance my enthusiasm with kindness? Why is apologizing for the small-but-important things the hardest? Because it re-opens wounds not considered big enough to be worth the hassle?
Today I'm going to take a big, deep breath. All of it just is what it is; which for the most part is really, wildly, immensely good. Let the dead skin slough off in its own time.
On a tangentially related note: You should probably buy Panic At The Disco's newer album "Pretty. Odd." It's relentlessly cheerful and exactly as advertised. Petty. Odd.
I'll try to write another installment for The Boy The King Loved tomorrow.
Godspeed.
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