Stress

I trust nothing in the world has changed since I began writing this blog.
That's a lie, everything has gone to shit.
Or maybe it hasn't. Maybe I just grew up and the skin of dream peeled away to reveal the ugly bloody reality. Maybe I'll never be able to see this starry idealism and sense of creation I used to be able to feel. I'm lost to who and what I am.

Cobblestones

I feel empty. I can't open nor close my eyes. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I don't really function in a human way, I don't even care.  Nothing in my sheltered home lets me think, I feel constrained. There's a gnawing biting pain that sets everything within my gut aflame; I feel nothing but the shame of having committed an error I can't leave or repent. I don't even understand the point of creation, the point of being or thinking. I miss who I was even though I can barely remember it. Maybe im reminscing a creature that never existed, a person I never was. I can't live anymore.