I feel SO FUCKING USELESS!

I MUST CREATE!!! I MUST!

I experience vague instances of feeling, every now and then. Vague, unidentifiable feelings, but still, momentary breaks in the bleak nothingness I feel most of the time.

I was asked what I thought about life, how I felt about things, people, anything, everything. She said if she asked me if I was happy, it would be a very silly question. One of the few that realize that. I said here it felt like someone was holding a pillow to my face. I think I might be at the stage where a person loses all consciousness. But I didnt tell her that.

It was a strange day. There was a lot of emotional revelation. People seemed ready to talk, only waiting for someone who would listen. I wish I had been in my usual state, at the top of my empathetic ability so I could have felt the importance of it all instead of telling myself, logically, how I was meant to react and what words said would help the most. But we do what we can. I helped as I could.

Tomorrow will either be busy or filled with mild anxiety. I have not begun working on what I have to do…
So I actually should go.

I think i might write something today, later….or at least draw a detailed miniature of an idea I had for a painting/pastel drawing. Creativity…*satisfied sigh*

I got bored of my background so…here be the new one!

I find it is a refreshing change from the old one which was progressively becoming more drab and boring.

I shall change this one when I get bored of it, but for now, this shall fuel my writery-ness or at least allow it to transfer itself onto teh page.

Letters to No One

There were nights you and I would make the most childish promises; hook our pinkies together and promise to be blood sisters. We stopped short of slashing our palms..we were still kids then, no matter how grown up we thought ourselves to be.

I dont speak to you now. You called me on it once in your tear-filled voice. You accused me of breaking our promise and I denied it. There was no promise. I didn’t make a promise. I dont remember.
But I did.

You hung up and I went to my desk, sketched a picture of you and tore it to pieces. I was the first among many traitors that would walk through your life and disregard it. We were twelve.

Your room smells of old
history books, musty paperback novels
that have been felt
with eyes and read by hands, and later
rested on sturdy mahogany shelves.

You’ve left your glasses on the bed
stand, next to a picture of your wife -
you told me
she died romantically, her head in your lap
on a trip to the alps or some other cold
place. I wonder
if she thought so.

I’ve been waiting naked in your room
for a while now, you said
you had to go take your blue
pill -

The cloud car ran over a cloud boy today,
while he tried to fetch his cloud ball from the street.
I tripped while jumping over a puddle,
trying to save a little cloud ant
instead.
A black cloud cat crossed my path;
I was smitten by the cloud god -
he said I’d better get my dirty feet
back down to earth
before he made the clouds rain
and there was nothing left to stand on.

So many comments! :L

Thank you Darky

I hope you’re well. And I’m sorry I havent been on MSN lately its busy on this side of the world.

Update your blog!! So I can comment too

*non-existent hugs*