I'm feeling emptier every day.
And tired, oh my how tired I feel.
Cold, yess, cold..
How could I forget that one ?
What about lonely ? Should I put it here? Should I leave it out ?
Damn. I just did.
My poetry isn't poetry anymore.
Maybe it never was.
I guess it was only words that loved so much being spoken and written ,
that they managed to hug each other of happiness in such ways ,
that they've created art in the most flawed form possible,
but in the best one as well.
My posts aren't posts anymore. They are just a half-empty white space on your screen that just leaves you disappointed. I am more absent than present, more ignorant than caring. Just kind of sliding between certain moments of the day that seem to have a little bit more importance, which is total crap because every moment matters. Apparently , I just can't wrap my head around it. Oh, speaking of my head , the beautiful home of my brain, oh that little piece of s.... In all these years now he decided to just give into my heart's urge to replay old memories again and again and again and again and..a.. I think you got the point. I made friends with coffee. I never needed anything like that to start my day and wake up, but for some reason I can't manage to keep my eyes open. They just want to dream. My ears have been hurting lately. Music can't heal them much, only temporary, but mostly they just don't want to hear. I'm craving silence. Sleep I'm getting plenty, but still not enough. Attention or affection or love, call it whatever not been receiving much. That's probably why I didn't feel like giving at all. I miss this, writing for hours on end and not getting sick of it, having the passion to write. I have been losing plenty of that in the last month,passion of all sorts and kinds. I don't know if this is a lame and long excuse for my writing, but this definitely isn't an excuse for who I am as a person and for what I am feeling, as dramatic , as happy or as plane and stupid that might be.
And tired, oh my how tired I feel.
