It just struck me today, what's different about me:

I. Have. Become. More. Sensitive.

Ooh revelation revelation.

The logical question of course would be in which way sensitive? Haha oops sorry not doing G.P. I tell you the logical question approach is quite silly, if you ask me frankly. Not that I have anything against Veluri, but really, as if there is a need to state the obvious mental link between stating something and explaining it. I should think it comes naturally, for when writing essays the desire is to communicate, and thus in order for someone to understand what you're writing about, the most fundamental criteria is that you explain what you're saying. But nevermind that silly lengthy rant about the stupidity of the GP approach.

I think I've become more sensitive in both ways. Unfortunately neither with very good outcomes. I've become more sensitive to people, but conversely, that has had a negative effect on myself. I've become more inhibited, because I'm so afraid of offending, and sometimes I get so many mixed signals and differing interpretations I become trapped in my own intertia, thinking too much into too many things. I miss my simple directness and cutting frankness that could convey completely my sincerity. But well. I guess it explains my new-found shyness in meeting new people as well, I'm all too aware of how so many things can offend.

I've also become more sensitive in terms of being affected. The only person who really hurt me emotionally before was. Well. Someone. One person. But yes, besides that, secondary school life never had the emotional dimensions of my life now. It was fun-filled slime-fest where the kick was in seeing who could push the boundaries furthest in terms of insults. Now I find myself affected by simple actions on the part of others, simple actions that probably don't have that much meaning, simple actions that don't carry as much rejection as I think they do. Lots of things disturb me and make me feel forgotten these days. Things I know wouldn't have had such a distressing effect on me before.

I'd hate to admit it, but one of my life's desires is to be on everyone's mind forever.

I screw myself up as I grow up. I wonder what will happen when I hit 34. Yes Nasty, I wonder.

I write this in the hope that all understand. This very act is pathetic in the extreme, the obvious reflection of all that is written.