Blank - like this sheet of paper - that's how my mind is.
I always have such great intentions before starting these and once I get to the point of being able to write, I can't.
Everything I say turns out to be the same thing said over and over again.
- I'm tired.
- I'm sick.
- And more ultimately: I'm sick of being tired and tired of being sick.
I understand the how on why I have no money, but what I don't understand is how I got from point A to point B.
"'Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose get tossed along the way."
Honestly, I could quote the entire song since it relates to me and my situation. Songs always amaze me being that not one of them was specifically written about me, but so many of them would be so easy to say that they were.
My ability, or now inability, to write poetry pisses me off. I used to easily be able to pick up a pen and paper and mentally vomit words across a page like it was nothing; the only issue I had was coming up with a title. Now I can come up with a title and a subject but no words or thoughts come out. My minds is stuck inside my skull and I just want little pieces to break off and escape. It feels so good when I am able to do that and that's why I write. My problem is once I start, I don't want to stop; and I'm always at a place where I have to stop. So, maybe I'll write on a weekend, when noone is around. Maybe that will allow me liberta mentale.
........ and breathe...........
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