Can't speak--
Not a whimper, not a whisper;
so much to say in this stagnant State
but nothing important.
Dark circles Dark eyes Black hair
Sith Priestess, is there such a thing?
Suffocating power wringing the life out of me.
My thoughts are nothing, words and words and words. I want to say something but find myself at a loss. I want to relay this feeling, this need, this pain. I want to make it clear, connect with your innermost calamities. This word "poet" "artistic", all frivolous? What is a writer that doesn't write? I dip my pen in all the inks, they do not flow. They only scratch and tear the paper. Perhaps better to say nothing. I don't know anymore. I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know who I am. I don't know why I am. I have an amazing boyfriend, who I'm not sure I deserve. I want to give and feel hollow. I feel disappointing, depressing, boring, pathetic and unworthy. I worry I'm not interesting enough to live a life with. I think about my life and I feel so detached. Who am I? Who was I? Am I still who I was or do I just play games? Does that even make sense? I like to travel. But it's not like I ever do. Am I just my father? Always wanting, never doing. They call me antisocial. What I once took as being independent, selective and quirky now seems like a scarlet letter. One more mark on my character alongside pride, vanity, stubbornness.
