Its yeast in me  that keeps me from laying low when i know I should. I know you know that i really want it. I want to want it. I yearn but i lust also. I am rising and find myself, catch myself, and sometimes let myself rise higher than i should. It feels so soft and inate, to be great or love anonymously. If i could clean my bowl once and start a new, just to be a newborn for one minute and like a child wanting what is simply good. If i could talk freely with you I think I could work it out, but maybe that is my yeast rising to occasion trying to work everything out and make like its not so bad or sad or sick. If it tastes good it must be ok right, i taste ok, im prepared, mixed, kneaded, and baked under 18 minutes just like angel bread. How could it be Hametz. I must not be the problem, she has to work on her midot. Am i flying right now or falling. My heart is sinking and the floor is falling out. Its the same feeling i have when Im about to be convicted, or tried or called to the principals office. i think im scared. of hametz and my soft matzah and my aveyrot and my devils.