love.

"the abused red buttprint of the lustful."

the odd part about growing up, in my opinion, is that even though I am completely aware of all the hormonal imbalances that beleaguer my body, i am still affected by angst.
why why why why why.

apparently, the wise thing to do is ignore the angst completely, being 'mature', "setting my sight on the long run", yada yada.
the societal coercion that is tradition.
authority.

and yet, it, somehow, feels good.
to ask.
to wonder.
to be, for lack of an appropriate word, 'emo'.
to be loaded with puberty stains of lack of self-confidence. to be laced with bullets of testosterone every now and then. to desire torrid kisses.
lust.

indeed, quite a few consequences are definitely appalling.
adding to the 'tisk tisk' echoes of life as is.

the old saying of 'at least trying'.
the writer's manifesto of being there.
trying that.

the advantage of being young is the perpetual 'foolishness' that is expected.
the mistakes.
the sins.
it is as if given the chance to actually do something wrong.
juvenile.



it may be a foolish, unwise way to spend our teenage years, but hey.

it's there.