The Mad Heart.

I'm beginning to realise what it's like to be overcommitted. I kind of like it. 


Insomnia is slowly weaving itself back into the fabric of my life you know, as thoughts of the Nice Boy pervade every inch of my heart. We spoke about this in my tute, you see, what it means to have a mad heart. 


I figure, the mind and body in a literary sense have always been separable, so to have a mad heart is to have a deeper, more perverse and consuming madness, like an infection that floods through the bloodstream and into everything. Insanity in not only your mind, but also in your core sense of being. 


So if he's in my heart, he's in my everything. 


And now I cant sleep. 
And I'm not so sure that he's that nice a boy after all. 


Love to cyberspace, because I think that my love might be in my extremities today, slumming it in the things that are easily lost.