I am having a really tough night. I feel completely worthless and helpless right now. I am trying very desperately to be strong for the people that I love and care about, but I know I am even failing at this. I can’t protect anyone. I can’t keep myself safe. I close my eyes and I see weird shit like that new scorpion that was discovered in Turkey ripping out my eyes and crawling inside to stab my brain with its venomous, barbed tail. I think crazy thoughts about the roof of this place ripping off and watching myself freeze into a solid block. I picture meeting god and neither of us are very happy.
I don’t want to be bleak. I really don’t. I want to write fun, happy stuff, I want to be hopeful and whimsical. I don’t feel like I am that right now. I feel like I am destroying myself piece by piece. I feel like every worry that I have is another bit of my soul that I am vomiting up like a heroin addict trying to detox. I am so fucking out of my mind scared right now. I want somebody to come watch me just so that I can have somebody here to document my descent into madness. Mornings are okay, except for waking up, that sucks, but the middle of the day is alright… I can pretend I am doing stuff. I can pretend that things are getting accomplished. Nights are horrible. There is nothing really much to do, but sit inside and worry. There is an hourglass in my head and its winding down. I don’t know what happens when the top half goes empty.
I can’t stand to eat. Food seems decadent and wasteful somehow. Every time I eat I am doing a calculation of how soon it will be before I need to eat again. I am thinking about food because that is the only thing that is important right now. I’m going to end up on a noodles only diet. Noodles and water… Oh god, that’s depressing… I am so miserable right now. Nobody should have to feel this way. I wouldn’t wish it on my greatest enemies. It’s inhuman. It’s just a constant ache that starts in the mind and radiates through the body like tremors from a mad and shaking Earth.
I can’t write right now. Yeah, I can write this, but I can’t write what I want to write. I’ve lost the thread and the voice. The music isn’t playing. The words won’t dance. And they will not sing.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Maybe the sun will shine.
Maybe it will be warm.
Maybe magic will occur and show itself to me.
Maybe… just… maybe… there will be love…
I hope so.