Something is not right...
Even though I don't know what it is, a part of me does not want to know either. After all, I could use any ounce of imagination I could get. Its like having friends...you want to have friends really badly and all...but when you are with them, you want to be alone with your thoughts. I don't know if these two things can ever go together. Like now I am at home and with family..and yet a part of me wants to be alone. When I am alone, I don't like it too much either. All I want to do is be EVERYTHING to ONE other thing..but then again...I don't know if this is the solution. Anne Bronte's poem "The Captive Dove" a favorite of mine (what with writing 2 papers and spending countless hours thinking about it, I ought to be an expert on it I reckon :P). But the gist of the poem is...Anne finds herself trapped and tries to find freedom in art. However, art leaves her "pining, neglected and alone". I think then that we are forever trapped...by ourselves.

The Captive Dove
~Anne Bronte

Poor restless dove, I pity thee;
And when I hear thy plaintive moan,
I mourn for thy captivity,
And in thy woes forget mine own.


To see thee stand prepared to fly,
And flap those useless wings of thine,
And gaze into the distant sky,
Would melt a harder heart than mine.


In vain, in vain! Thou canst not rise:
Thy prison roof confines thee there;
Its slender wires delude thine eyes,
And quench thy longings with despair.


Oh, thou wert made to wander free
In sunny mead and shady grove,
And far beyond the rolling sea,
In distant climes, at will to rove!


Yet, hadst thou but one gentle mate
Thy little drooping heart to cheer,
And share with thee thy captive state,
Thou couldst be happy even there.


Yes, even there, if, listening by,
One faithful dear companion stood,
While gazing on her full bright eye,
Thou mightst forget thy native wood


But thou, poor solitary dove,
Must make, unheard, thy joyless moan;
The heart that Nature formed to love
Must pine, neglected, and alone.