a brush with love

well my outburst a couple of days ago certainly got a me a few raised eyebrows. talking to a number of mates i've allowed them to talk sense into my befuddled thinking, point out the obvious, and show me where the shovel is. all that's left to do is to dig a big hole and bury these feelings deep deep inside. ooh i wonder what kind of neurosis will it surface as in thirty years? *rubs hands in anticipation* but it is the easiest thing to do; it may even be the best thing to do (i'm steering away from right/wrong here as they are concepts fraught with danger); and i guess the bitter taste in my mouth is to be expected. after all, love is the only emotion we have to fight our fear of death, or so they say, so one can't expect to come out of a brush with love unscathed. what did surprise me was baz saying that he was surprised that i was so open about it. apparently i give the impression that i keep things close to my chest. well, i suppose that is a fair call given i'd never talked about my feelings for a particular person before (mainly because there aren't that many people to talk about). usually i just talk about my preoccupation with death and suicide. but i reckon these are pretty personal subjects too. maybe he is just used to me moaning and whining about my bad moods and generally me being terrible company. what an absolute champ he is to put up with me for the last four weeks. actually, that goes for everyone of my friends over the last few years. cheers kids, you're all lifesavers.