Feeling that way, again.

I'm gone. Not massively, but definitely a bit. More than a bit. The feeling is fascinating. I remember describing it a long time ago as “when you feel that way.” And, mostly, it still holds true. Everything is a little bit more. You see something sad, and it breaks your heart. You see something happy, and it breaks your heart.

There's a girl. The one you probably can't get, who condemns the ones you can get to oblivion. They become a filter through which everything else passes. And the male obsession kicks in: something, I've learned, I've got pretty bad. The pain, in a very small way, is delicious. It's delicious while there's still hope.... the excitement of what could happen. But probably won't. But imagine if it did. And the wisdom garnered over years – the gut; the instinct – dissolves. That most romantic of things kicks in: the power to mug yourself. Once, always.

And the usually rational man, the man who backs himself, finds himself writing bollocks like this at silly o'clock in the morning. It's cathartic. It's a bit like being sick. A purge. But it's not all gone. I'm fucking glad I can feel like this, but, lord, it's a pain. Try to remember this. Not that it'll help.