• the truth is that i showed ya my soul and ya didn't want it

  so i make a mockery of myself, let myself slip a little more each day.  i resist hard work, i resist effort. i enjoy inertia. 

  mostly i try not to think about the things that drive me insane, with little success. i have so much work to do and i've barely done any of it. i wish i could find something joyful, something that motivated me to get out of bed and look myself in the eyes. the words, the pictures, the sounds, the touches, the tastes, the smells... well, they don't do it for me. 

  while i write, i think of all the mean things people could say to me about what i write. the harsh thoughts bite at my nerves and i can't smack them away. i think i'm going to keep a written journal again. i've had so many fragments of them over the years, but i think it'll be nice for me to have something that will keep track of the empty days. maybe it'll make them a little less empty by having somewhere sane to talk to myself to.

  still all choked up, not even close to all grown up

• I like your title.

  imarlen17on April 12, 2014   Link

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