"kind of unworthy to listen to it"

Today I ate a bowl of sweetest food on the planet. It was horrible. Pineapple, orange, apple and banana dipped in chocolate melted with heavy cream. It was just unbearable.
Arranging my September teacher practice at my ex-high school lead me back to my German teacher that prepared me to my final exam. In the third form I went to her tiny empty flat to examine her broken fridge, to have a small talk about fashion designers and lonely women – and to do some exercises in German in the meantime. And now on the phone she was sweet like the chocolate. She said she's saved the message I sent her after the exam results were announced. I felt like hugging her. I imagine she was sitting there alone in her dark flat. She's a strong beast, red-haired and tall, wearing fur cap in the winter. But I wanted to hug her.
And then I thought about how consistently I achieved my goals one by one to pass my exam and to get to the applied linguistics department. When I look back on that time I feel I did it with the surgeon's precision, although I was scared stiff till the very end. But this was a success made with my own hands.
I started wondering why such effective actions don't apply to other spheres of my life. Why am I unable to figure out how to satisfy my needs on the relationships level. How come I don't now the way.
I melted away in my thoughts like that goddamn chocolate.
If only I knew. If I were able to make long-term plan, to fix certain actions and goals, to see myself achieving them, growing complete and strong. If I knew how to reach the sources of peace and balance.
I've always tried to be well prepared. Well-groomed, with a fine base. And however it proved helpful in mundane petty issues, in the case of people I almost always turn out not in time, not appropriate; literally naked. One great improvisation and embarrassment. Why?
If I were a painter, I would paint my reverie if that's the only way for you to be with me. If I knew how, I'd create my everyday life with the smallest details. I'd spare no pains, I'd tinker with it day and night.
I would risk it all this time.
By the way – I guess I have to ration Tracy's music. It really starts killing me. Today after just a few bars of Baby Can I Hold You I hysterically burst into tears. The problem with self–contemplation is that it gives questions only. Who you are vs. who you think you are. What do you do for others. Is there love in your life. What is love. What do you want. What's the quality and value of your life. You want to live in truth so you start looking at yourself thoroughly. You get pretty terrified with what you find out, so you look for hints. Except that there aren't any. Questions without answers.
So I run away.
I can see a small room. Summertime. Through the angled venetian blinds bars of warm light get inside. I can hear the sounds of cars, trees and kids on the street. I'm in this picture and I feel good and safe. I wait for somebody, a real human. A woman. She arrives. The ground beneath our feet is hardened with hours of conversations behind. With our being together. I can see her hand palm. Her hair. Reciprocity. She knows me and I know her. Serenity. There's a cat wandering along the windowsill. We laugh. She's beautiful. I have a lot to offer. I'm needed.
And then I see the night. The city lights, the music. Sweat and closeness. Tangibility of my own life in a shape I accept and really like. Fulfillment.
I can see myself among people. I can see fading away that I can endure. I'm involved in something beautiful and significant. Somewhere near my navel there's the balance. I'm warm in there and others can see that.
I am able to say what others think about me and it isn't contrary to my of vision of myself.
And, for God's sake, I don't torture myself thinking about me me me me 24 hours a day.
I can support myself financially and I look after someone. I'm objectively good at something. My skin smells nice. I'm relaxed.

Now I guess I can't stop listening to Tracy Chapman. It's all her.
No way because – as Rosie O'Donnell said – she's so cute I can hardly handle it.