I don't know. I don't understand. I hate not being able to understand.
In between people trying to matchmake oh-so-subtly, people trying to come to terms with themselves, obvious unrequited hills to climb and other people's stress, I feel like I'm sprinting to catch up with myself.
Keats is proving to be incredibly elusive to understand. Not from lack of trying, I feel like my head's about to explode. Trying to grasp this process, it has effectively grasped me. Being so frustrated has loosened my hold on my temper. I'm more likely to snap than calm down.
Having my frustration mocked doesn't help.
Although I guess that if things came too easy they're not fully appreciated.
So I'll try staying positive.
And try not to snap.
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