If you're wondering if I'm writing about you,I am.

- i can't write right now, but something is better than nothing.

i sit here with writers block, 9 unfinished poems taunting me and all i want to do is cry.
i don’t think i can even finish this one.
it is exactly 12:38 am. it is 16 degrees outside. my hair is tangled, my hair is a mess.
my eyes are weary and my typing is slow.
i want to tell you that she was my first love-
but how?
who is she in the grand scheme of things?
who am i?
i want to tell you that i feel inadequate,
but i can’t figure out why.
i want to tell you that tonight,
i am so in love with myself,
but that would be a damn lie.
i want to ask you that if we are what we eat,
and that since all food is made of matter,
does that mean i matter?
but by that logic then every organism matters,
and if everything matters,
then doesn’t that mean that nothing matters at all?
i want to tell you that i am tired of the pain,
but i cannot put words to how this pain burdens me.
i want to tell you that i have writers block and that this is all that will pour out of me,
but it is all so unsatisfying.
i want to tell you i am sorry,
but i would leave my apology so unfinished.
nothing feels the same anymore.