I never seem to know how to talk about my feelings. The dumpster is a tantalizing place to call home. I have no idea why either. I can't be descriptive anymore. I don't know how to write. I don't know how to talk. I don't know my feelings. I can't say what I want to say. Everything comes out wrong. I am not creative like I used to be. The pause button for my brain was pressed quite sometime ago. I think the button is jammed.
It is all the same. Life is the same. Nothing changes. There is nothing new under the sun.
Why can't I be descriptive?
What is wrong with me?
Where is my creativity?
I can never find words.
Ugh.
I am running from anyone here. Who is anyone? Running to depression and love alike. Warmth is found in the tears climbing up my cheekbone. Not down any longer.
There is someone inside of me trying to escape. She can't. I can't comprehend things as I used to. I can't focus.
These problems did not just arise. I did it to myself. Who would have thought there would be so many consequences? Not I. My past. It is all going to change. Somehow.
I am not who I was. For that I am grateful. But something is not right.
Breathe into these empty lungs. Peel away the layers of failure. Peel away my sin. Take my tongue.
Vulnerability.
Just press play. Just do it.
You will find it, I know you will. I'm feeling SO much the same and although the situation is frustrating, to know I'm not alone is so much better. Keep writing about it--I think it helps :) Lovely writing--captivating!!
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