Where is the instruction manual for this shit?  Stumbling over my own toes, trying to keep them moving in a forward motion in front of my body, at enough of a distance to travel somewhere away from here, but never far enough that I can't come crawling back again.  Trapped in insecurities that tell me it won't, it can't, it probably shouldn't happen.  It's okay to admit I don't know what the hell I'm doing most of the time.  We're young, we're having fun, I can live with the regrets of poor timing and circumstance, but never with those of not taking a chance on you, not chasing after a fleeting feeling.  It never seems that important until it's gone, chasing my tail and wondering why I always end up right back where I begun.  Is there a better way?  To make things feel right again and easy like they used to be?  Walls washed white from the sun's bleaching rays because you'll never shut the god damn curtains on the windows.  Just another line in this book, just another something else I wish I'd said before it was too late.