so what
I want to write without writing. I want to scream. I want to walk out that door and vanish into the night. Even though it isn’t the night. I don’t know where to go. I have a single path before me, but my feet are hovering three feet above the path and I have no way of getting down. Nothing is holding me up. I have collapsed under my own weight and I’m just so sick of it all. If I knew how to get a hold of them, I would do every drug man had ever invented. If I could stand the taste, I would be loaded right now. I am just so sick. My mind is moving at a snail’s pace. No racing thoughts, no wild visions. Just nothing and nothing to make me happy. Nothing to distract me. Just me and my misery alone and wallowing. I know I don’t have the right to wallow. I know I don’t have the right to feel sorry for myself. I can’t see any decision, of all those that landed me here, that weren’t my own. I just don’t care anymore. I d