The story of boy meets girl. sort of.

Complications have always been somewhat apparent within the teenage years of love life. University throws at us the exciting hope of the unknown, of finding ourselves, of being free. What we get however is the tarnished prescence of realism. The bitter tang of jelousy, of anxiety and of feeling completely lost in our own sad existance which is infact meaningless in the huge ibiss that makes up our universe and life itself.

On the path of self discovery there has always been a sense of the opposite sex, hovering over us with tantalising temptation and the hope of adventure. Of danger. Why does it always appear at times when it is least appropriate? When we should be spending our time discovering and developing ideas of the future, to make a difference and shape society into a modern ideal. Surely this is more important? No to us right here right now, it is not. We are a generation of the throw away culture. We want discovery. We want excitement. But we want it now. No time for pondering over dreams of the future whn you can satisfy yourself in the here and now. Like a shot of adrenaline, lust surges through you at lightening speed, if only to last for a small amount of time and then bang its gone, and we are left forever wanting more.

You cant always stick to the ideals of 'the plan' that we think we all have. Instead we act on impulse and are left with the pieces, our minds scattered like pieces of a jigsaw, loathing and self distruction become apparent and then the cycle begins again. Naturally continuing like the ticking of a clock, we watch ourselves drift in and out of realisation with the hope that somehow, someday, solace wil be found and we will be at one with ourselves.