Morning

Senses and sensations. The sensation of senses. The sense of having sensations - to like. Human creatures have a strange desire to feel the sense of being and being liked. It's a want that I could without a doubt say that the majority of human race handers. Why do I have to be a part of this majority? Sure, that may be naive, nor do I not really want to feel the predilection of being liked - but I hate how I feel eerie when people talk about me without my knowledge - I poke and prod not because I truely want to have the knowledge, but so I know it's not bad. I don't understand in this own noggin of mine why I care if someone doesn't like me. Interesting how I know exactly where this unassurance came from - ah, the seriousness of a scarred childhood. I suppose it's a sensation I'll have to work on.

Another question, when I did become such an insecure sack of miserable sensations?