I just wanted to write. Rant actually.
I have been told quite a few times in the last few months that I must find something else to write about besides love. I just can't seem to find it.
It. That one elusive little 'topic' that will free me of 'love' for a while.
Lately, my life has been reduced to this odd cycle of monotonous tasks, inter spaced with moments of complete forgetfulness and meaningless conversation that do nothing to my head.
Intrinsically. I must say- it is vital that it does something to my head.
I have no time for myself anymore. Literally.
If you don't make me think- you won't exist in my life very much longer.
I was told to try and concentrate. Long moments have passed with me holding an open message template in hand- and completely blank about what I wanted to write and who I wanted to send that message to.
Mornings have gone, after bad, tough nights, when I have woken up and almost managed to convince myself that nothing happened the night before. Not convince in an 'optimistic happy go lucky way' but convince myself by blanking out episodes and people completely for a few moments.
I fear the worst.
No. Not the morbid quiet yet.
It is vital.
