Yawns

Another late night.  This time I'm sitting in the boiling heat of this house and if I was feeling poetic I would write a wonderful piece on how everything was sticky with sweat, but I'd actually make it sound beautiful.  Or at least I wish I would.  I think I might have once had that sort of fluid control over language.  I'm afraid I don't anymore.  Which is really, really sad to me.  I used to pride myself on my ability to express things even if I didn't know what I was trying to achieve, and that was nice.

I'm afraid of getting too caught up with you in the future to focus on the things I know I should focus on.  It's balance.  Again.  This stupid thing called balance that requires me to pick and choose and not be able to do anything.  It may sound conceited, but I'm pretty damn sure I could do some really incredible things.  But I don't think I'm going to.  And please don't read this as me thinking that you're going to hold me back, because even if it might be a little bit of that, I don't mind.  I'm just scared.  I'm scared that I'm going to overbalance and lose either my passion or you.

I've never been good at finding the middle ground.  To put it simply, I'm just bad at it.  I don't know where that delicate balance lies so I often find myself teetering back and forth rapidly, hoping that I don't fall too far to bring things back up.  But now it seems that I actually need to learn to find this balance, this compromise point.  And part of me is afraid of missing out on science, and part of me is afraid of missing out on you, and it feels like another one of those situations where I'm so afraid of messing up everything that I don't actually do anything and then really mess things up as a result.

I really hope I figure this out because I feel like everything is going to fall apart if I don't.  And given my wonderful tendency at breaking things when I want to preserve them, I should probably try to avoid that outcome.  I'm sorry I'm such a wreck.  I hope I don't permanently damage anything else.