Why does this feeling hurt?
It is a familiar one and its somewhat prepared for, then, if I have known it all this time, then why does it hurt as if it's the first time?
Why can't I contain this passion?
It has been the warning from the exploits of old, that a curbing of the enthusiasm should follow those erratic throes of passion. If that is the case then, why should I feel passion at all?
Why does it even matter?
If there was a sense of purpose to this, to my greater sense of being, of becoming or approaching that which I aspire to, why does this minute detail of inconsequential uprising, even make a difference to the greater person which is me?
Why can't I explain it? To whom, and why would they want to hear it at all?

I had dreams last night, plenty. Some KR, good KR dreams and some dreams I couldn't quite decipher. Sometimes I think, I am too independent, I have created this person that loves her independence because it gives her the freedom to do things, explore things, and just be without holding her down, and then sometimes in my quiet times, I want to become a greater part of something that makes meaning of which my being is not really a part of.

This is just intense psycho babble and no, I didn't see The Matrix yesterday. I spent some part of yesterday reading, writing, talking with an old friend and hence just reflecting about my past and future, my wants, needs and everything else that would make me truly happy that the Lord may someday toss my way.

I thought about being, and what it was I needed to be to complete me.