experience, observe, internalise

this violent appetite for experience drives me mad.
of noting every small detail.
analysing, over analysing every situation,
every conversation, makes me draw such unearthly conclusions,
about myself about other people, about what i mean to other people.... the works.
i want to be able to express without being commented upon.
upon the way, i think, they way i talk, the way i look, the way i exaggerate... even when i dont.
i want to be able to not take every piece of verbal bullcrap diguised as the alphabet which is hurled at me from sometimes the most unexpected places, and sometimes from the most obvious.
i want to be able to be free in my mind and soul and my environment of categories.
of the urge and the need that the human mind has to compartmentalise human behaviour, generalise it to the extent that there ceases to be an entity called the individual.
i want to listen, to persuade, to interrupt, to help, to talk, to laugh, to be a confidante, to love, to be loved, to be fed with warmth, to feed warmth, to cleanse, to pray, to kiss, to loathe, to walk, to see, to make love, to draw, to sculpt, to massage, to soothe, to be the agony aunt, to cry, to sob vehemently, and yet to feel the tears on my burning skin travel down and wet my neck.
to experience.
oh how it drives me mad...