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I've got an urge to read Romeo & Juliet again. It's one of my favorites, and I absolutely adore Paris.
First, though, I've got to read *deep breath* Dracula, The Secret Life of Bees, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Walden, Civil Disobedience, Brisingr, and then whatever else catches my fancy from now until then. What can I say? I'm a certified book worm! sweatdrop
But seriously, I really want to read Romeo & Juliet. I dunno why, I've just got such a, what's the word? Craving? Yes, I've got a craving for it. I have a craving to read a book. Oh, woe is me.

Sooo...... That's about it. Other than the fact that I've completely lost my mind (at last! I was wondering when it would happen).


EDIT:

Eh. Felt like writing, and since I know that there's no fighting urge, here I am, writing. It's like jeez, this is my life, and I'm just sitting here, letting the seconds waste away. That's hours gone by that I'll never get back. And I could have spent those hours writing my Nobel-Prize winning novel, or curing cancer, or some other crap that's gonna make the world better.
My life, inevitably, will fall. It will crash and burn, and I will watch the flames rise up, like the little pyromaniac that I am. Watch the flames, just watch them, and let them slowly engulf me, until I am nothing but a rotten husk of ashes.
And it's a damn slow fall. I wish it would be faster; then I might actually be able to enjoy it. The vertigo, the rush of air, the wind and sunset painting the sky. I would love it, and I would treasure it, remember it always. But I have gotten so used to the slow, unmoving fall that it has just faded into the background. The bright, beautiful sunset has faded to gray twilight, and I am silhoutted in black against the dreary sky. Just another dim star, just another falling heap from out of space.