As always, late nights contribute to late night ramblings and musings. This time, however, I'm lost for words. So many outlets of emotions I'm incapable of capturing as I find myself caught on a balancing scale in true Libra mode. I realise I may need to have little outlets of anger before I blow up into a million little pieces, but I could never find the heart to be little miss grumpy. It's a curse to feel like I owe it to others, and although there may be a remedy to such a superficial need, I highly doubt its effectiveness on me. The need for approval is killing me softly, with Pat Benatar as a soundtrack. How ironic.