I've been trying all day to write
how I'm feeling.
And it doesn't work.
Everytime I begin, I write half a page, and read it back, and delete it again.
Perhaps it's because there's so much happening right now, and perhaps it's because last night I got staggeringly drunk.
But whatever the reason, I cannot seem to find that balanced place where I can sit with words coming out of my fingers.
People irritate me today.
There's a man, a good friend, who just ended a painful internet relationship.
I should sit down and write to him, tell him he's not a bad person. But I cannot find any words that do not sound ... trite.
My best girlfriend is hurting and lonely and I cannot find words for her, to either make her feel better, or to distract her.
My mother needs me to comfort her with my presence.
And I want her to just leave me alone.
She doesn't ask for me to be there though. It's my choice. And I resent her for needing it anyway.
My friends are so sick of hearing about that my brother is dead. And I think I have mostly run out of words about it anyway.
But I have nothing else to talk about.
My friends have been looking after me, talking with me, listening to me... even phoning me from overseas...
And I can't find any way to let them know I apreciate them.
I sit, discontent and restless and wait for somethng to happen...
I want someone to say something interesting. I want to get excited. Involved. I want to be able to write again. To be able to write something that means something to me.
Boored...
I'm in a hiatus...
I'm waiting for life to start up again.
Properly this time.
I'm waiting to give a damn about anything but being snuggled and loved and aproved of by my lover.
But I'm just empty and blank and ... paused.