somniloquence

You have moved me. I don't really understand this, and perhaps this isn't the time to mention it because I don't want it to seem like this post is the only thing I'm talking about, and I know I haven't left feedback often, if ever, but it remains.

Sometimes when I read something, there's just nothing I can do, you know? I mean, I have this feeling of intense perfection or personal realization or the need to wax poetic or write a wordy post about how in love I am with a story and an author, but I don't want to share it. I don't want to ruin it. I don't want to make it manifest, because I know I don't have the words within me to possibly add anything to that which has caused the feeling.

You are beyond words, is what I am saying. I'm saying that something exists in me which feels that there is something amazing about you. I'm saying that you affect me. I'm saying you're the rare type of person that calls to me to be better than I am.

I don't know why this is so. I have no explanation, and I have no degree, and I have no important thoughts. I'm a nineteen-year-old depressive and I really have no right to claim what I am claiming. It just is. It's just that you are.