Why NOT?

The cup is half full yes? Yes. Thats the voice of reason in my reason. Is this pseudo intellectual? To the point where the meaning of what i mean becomes as unrecognizable as the individuals that went into making the salad i tossed a half hour ago. No, no... i don't mean individual with its usual connotation. Which is people. Entities. Im only referring to vegetables and boiled stuffs that have lost all their oomph. Not to imply that being boiled, or being a vegetable for that matter, automatically means that said green cannot have individuality. But thats legal jargon nudging its way into my wanna over compensatational ramble. About... erm, there come times, more often than not, where i lose the thread of what i was saying. The underlying cause is undoubtably losing the thread of what i was thinking. Throwing around auspicious words like undoubtable is a tricky matter if one were to ponder over it. Everything is surely subject to some doubt. Unless you (or I, or the collective whoever) are a rock. Rocks. Are cold, hard, colourless, and the background to a living foreground. Doubtless and invulnerable. In the desolate sense i see in my mind. I me me me, the me here realises that i dont have the monopoly over imagining personifications and personalities for rocks...
The cup. Yes. Am i trying too hard to see it full? Or is it alright to assume im always certain of what i want to see? I need validation perhaps. I think ive found it. Alone and with. To rip some lines off of one i love in my life, my reason for reason. My reason to be glad im innocent. Optimism. Faith. Fluid dynamics. Emotion. Touch. Clarity. Charity. Connection. Completion. Comfort. Life. Oh laaaailaa, i was born in previous lives an unfulfilled emo rock lyric spouting poet who was just too scattered to be together. Maybe thats a life in which i met him. Who can think the same as me, at the same time, across eons of 1s and 0s. With engulfing beings such as the feeling of ecstasy and unabashed joy. Feelings are beings in my existence. Living. Breathing... down my neck to the small of my back, lifting up the lapels of my coat on a winter's night to calm down my thudding heart, lifting my skirt to my modesty which wont hold it down oh for feeling's touch, whispering between my calves as i frolick in the wild grass with lillies floating down from the random music above. All the feeling i want. My hair wet with the rain that pours on me so i cant breathe but to drink. But i have someone to drink with from to for. Whichever will not remain idiosyncratic.
Am i justified? Do i NEED validation? Are we what we think? Am i simply existential? Maybe. There's an extremity of electric potential in 'maybe'. That jumps from his fingertips to mine. Am i too this or that? Will they know? Will they see? Do i need them to? Do i want to NOT need that need? Who wants to so readily give up their child that wants reassurance? Lemmings, so mindlessly preparing to kill that most precious self they can never regain once lost... a paradise lost. I dont want to lose candor. Even if i am easy to fool with candor as my sleeve. Being easy to fool is nothing similar to being a fool. Its being so free that the care of worry isnt that looming spectre. From this lofty viewpoint, it is only bitingly humorous and simultaneously tragic when 'they' make that mistake. They. The collective unanimous stacked up against anyone who desires an 'i' apart from their 'them'. Very 1984. The year i was born in.

I...