Have you ever had so much to say that you can’t get any of it out?
I lost my words.
Words have always been my sanctuary. Books, poems, stories, lyrics…all so beautiful and so very powerful. There has never been a word I’ve read that I didn’t understand on a soulful level.
I’ve never really fit in wherever I happened to be. So many different pieces that add up to very disheveled puzzle. And I’ve always understood people a little too well. The ability to see beneath the surface is a very lonely talent.
Because after a while, you see so many things. You read so many things. The end of every day is a mangled mess of fried circuits and sensory overload. You stop being able to sort through everything, you stop wanting to try. Some days, you treasure every minute. So days you ride the waves of dispair and uncertainty.
And it’s so hard. So hard to hope. I think Hell is the absence of hope. But at the same time, how can I still hope like I do, every day?
I still believe in the good of people even though I’ve seen so much evil. See the thing is…I still have hope. But I don’t know what to do with it. So I don’t do anything.
I think one day, I just sort of stopped. I’m in some sort of stasis. And I keep revisiting the old inspirations, I’m still waiting for that moment when I begin to live again. When I begin to want to.
I’m going to be okay. I just don’t know if I’ll ever be more than that.