the sky was made of amethyst and the stars look just like little fish

I was reading a story in Augusten Burroughs' Magical Thinking today. It's a wonderful little story where he's been dating someone for a few weeks and has quickly fallen in love but is obsessed with trying to figure out how the other guy feels about him. And there's this really wonderful line or two: "I don't want to know what my feelings are until I know what his are. Somehow I know this can't be right." I hate sounding like one of those people who reads something or hears something and suddenly thinks THAT'S SO ME but it happened. Everybody probably feels that way though. Just let me say, this once, that I feel it more. Why be so afraid of feelings and even hide them and suppress them because of insecurity? (As I reread that sentence, suddenly it seems like an okay excuse...) What if the other person is doing the same thing? Are we all equally crazy?