What would you do if I told you I was up til 2 thinking about you?  Even writing that in this blog that nobody reads makes me nervous.  You make me nervous.  Why don't worlds collide with ease?  The difficulty that results from the push and pull, the trying to make ends meet and reaching fingertips to their limit just to touch your face and then to simply have to wake up.  I don't like this feeling, this inconsistent wonder, what if time and space were kinder?  I don't know where to go from here.  It's like sometimes I feel suspended in this blissful memory with no feasible glimpse into the future.  I hate to think I'm living in the past, but I'm just not ready to let you go.