anti-prose. random matter.
over and over and over again....
Published on November 22, 2004 By crimson In Blogging
I have got nothing.

No new stories, no fascinating tales, no deep thoughts to share. Instead, it's just the same old song, playing endlessly in the background. I'm in a rut, making the same mistakes over and over, and because I've been doing it so long, it's not the pain it once was but it feels endless. No, my downfalls are of my own making. The need to always remain in control is going to drive me crazy. Because, in the end, it makes me unable to accept new things, even though I want them badly. I no longer feel pain from some one else's words, but sorrow over knowing how to prevent them from being said. Not pursuing what I want and feining nonchalance is simply stalling the inevitable: that one day I will realize that I am lonely and I'm at fault.

It feels like the gray days of winter are beginning. Gone are the bright blue skies that promise easy laughter and delight. The fresh scent of freshly mown grass is replaced by burning leaves, bitter and stinging, like the cold ice-daggered wind. I can feel myself turning inward, shutting down, and turning away my friends. I know that I am sending of signals of touch-me-not because somehow I know that opening up has always led to being let down. I want to hide in a darked room, lighting candles and listening to the howling wind. I want to curl up under covers, and listen to mellow music. I want to cry, and not feel weak.

Blah... and blah again.

Comments
on Nov 22, 2004
Blah, Blah... Blah Blah Blah
It takes strength to cry, not weakness, leastwise that's what I think.