Unprepared. That is how I always am. I seem to be caught unguarded every moment, every crucial moment. Perhaps it is a good thing. After all, spontaneity is what makes life beautiful. It is what I believe makes the world interesting. No amount of caution can shield me from such blows. Despite psyching myself out, I always end up speechless. If thoughts could be heard, then my thoughts would be full of stammers and awkward pauses. This excites me in a twisted way. I must be masochistic in a sense that I continue entering such dark tunnels. Forever I am wondering, forever I am wounded. Who can be wise enough to respond with languid speech and casual gestures? Only those who have been rendered numb, apparently.