lonely estrogen...

two words, i don't know why i combine them. they seem distant friends. i relate to neither on a regular basis and i'm married to both. no more apologies. no more looking back in regret. i have those. i have many. unless it inspires, it (con)spires against me. it is part of that assassin that keeps following me: the failure complex. i've written before about the insanity of feeling like a failure. in this way, i differ from mr paul hewson. i often react in those moments, or fall from reacting. i succomb to a bordem i've created. i desire that honesty would excude from my fingertips. i would wish great personal honesty on all those around me. it is so rewarding when it surfaces , though i feel, if only for a few sacrosanct moments. "only the shallow know themselves"* but i want to know more...i want to be more...i want to dwell within myself and as a result, ignore myself. do i wallow in such fear and loathing that i never make it to the surface to exhibit compassion for others around me? i fear nothing. i am reckless. i am dangerous. i'm a virginal rock scribe, who's still waiting for those breadcrumbs to fall from the table of the greats. where is my rock god to worship?