I hate going to bed with mixed feelings in my belly. It's like going to bed after eating beets, and chocolate, and freshly brushed teeth. My body is never sure what to do with it. It feels like I hold them far too long before I let them go and I have so much trouble sorting them. One goes this way, and the other that way, but they are the same thing and they stay in the same place. And I stay in the same place, and I'd rather move. But I'm stuck. And I think this is how tornadoes start. I think I'm a hot spot for tornadoes. I'm made up of so many different extremes and it's all locked inside, and sometimes I let it fly out my mouth like a swarm of bees but I never even really know what I'm saying, and it goes all kinds of ways and the words spew all around and it's too late to cut and paste and no one knows what I said but they nod in agreement anyways. And thats when I know that it's still caught inside and I'm the only one that I can confide in. Because I can't even comprehend myself sometimes, so how will any one else? Hm. Maybe that's whats wrong lately, maybe I'm lonely. Or maybe I'm crazy. I have no clue. I want to put my pieces together all by myself, and soon. I want to sort through it all, but it's hard. I take one thought one way, and when I go back to the pile, I'm lost again and forget the way back to where I started the pile and it's all nonsense. And it still is even as I'm writing. But this is helping me make as much sense of the nonsense that can possibly be made. It's not enough.