I'm tired, but I had a Coke right before I went to bed. My bad. Definitely a mistake.

Plus there's thunder-a-rollin' and flashes of lightning that interrupt my way off to sleep.

So, I guess I shal blog for a bit. :D

//Blog begin//

Start. Here. Now.

Life is boring. Life is fun. Life is ... well ... life. It has its boring parts: sitting at a car wash, waiting to wash cars. It has its interesting parts: a guy at work gives a girl he has had a crush on for 3 years flowers and she is shocked (dumbfounded).

Life is ...

Love is...

Love is complicated. Love is something I don't allow myself to feel or to give. I feel love, I push it away. I want love; yet, I search for it in all the wrong places. Love is something that I _cannot_ have with a straight man. (If he's truly straight.)

Blue eyes just _get_ me. Too bad I find blue eyes on straight men to be delicacies. :P

Love is so complex, lust is so simple. Is lust what I want, need, crave?

Yes probably that's it.

I just want a body there to hold on to.

So why do I set standards so high? For the mind, for the soul, for the body?

Do I really want to love? to lust? Or is it something else I want?

What is going on here? Do I know? Do I really care?