red lips in a blue room

Last night I felt alive. I danced tango for almost 3 and 1/2 hours while taking a class and I felt like I was learning and improving. Time flew by. I always wondered what it feels like to be good at something. I can only imagine what it is like to be extraordinary at something. I wish I could feel that. I can say that that is my blessing or my curse, depending on how you look at it. I feel, I am all feelings. Emotions, you say, are good to some extent. After that certain limit, it's just craziness. I wonder if you're right. Pardon me, though. Being right doesn't really matter to me. What matters to me is to end this non-sense.

My mind is tired. I woke up thinking. I went to bed thinking. I think non-stop. Is everybody like that?
It's funny how this blog is so self-centered. I don't think of myself as being so self-centered. Somehow here I open myself to a dialog with myself.
My therapist said I should not have expectations regarding other people. I regret to inform her that that's not possible. She also said that we love people for who they are. Is that so? How come? I want to understand love so much. I formulate questions about love that I cannot answer. I am not schizophrenic or anything, but I do talk to my thoughts and they talk back. I do want to love someone for who he is and not for what he does for me or because he is doing everything I want him to do. I also want someone to love me for who I am with all my faults included. Ideally, it would be good if that person thought that he could live well and be happy with all of my faults and vice-versa.
Am I asking way too much? Do I expect too much from love? Is love just another "thing" we get ourselves into? Why can't LOVE be special like we see in old classic movies?
My blog looks terrible. I tried fixing the problem myself and I just made it worse. Oh, well.

Indifference. I never thought I could become so indifferent.