Quote of the Day:

“Arthur felt happy. He was terribly pleased that the day was for once working out so much according to plan. Only twenty minutes ago he had decided he would go mad, and now here he was already chasing a Chesterfield sofa across the fields of prehistoric Earth."
-Douglas Adams, "Life, the Universe and Everything"

Words

Blocked.
Blocking.
Blocked.

What is it?
The words keep getting lower, more quite and harder to grasp.
My output has been dropping.

Was this all because I was parading for attention and parroting words?

Words.
So many things keep coming back to that.

Small words.
Big words.
Scary words.
Terrible words.
Needy words.
Painful words.

The things I see.
Feel.
Taste.
Hope.

The emotions I feel.
Crying.
Laughing.

Living.
Hoping.
Dying.

I cannot begin express how frustrated I am.
Anger.
Rage.
Bitterness.

I am trying.
I really am trying my best.
But it feels pointless.

The world isn't out to get me but why try so hard?
Why continue building when things keep falling?

I wear a mask so I can breath.
No one wants to see under it.
The play is the thing.
And all this Religious Talk
has become an exhibit.

Something that makes me nauseated.
I feel so lost.
So stretched thin and confused.
Wishing...just hoping and wishing.

All is fading.
Falling.
Hurting.
Swinging and spinning out of synch.