There can be no doubt at all, that I am mad as a hatter at
present. I’m way deep in it and all I can do is silently scream into the quiet
room as I blast music into my brain via ear buds. Winter is fast approaching and
I feel that if I am still here when He starts his frosty march…I will just lay
down and let him take me into the slumberlands.
I need movement. I am statue-ing into what I'm sure will
not be a pretty forever face. My pain will be for all to see and not just the
bits I allow access to. As it is my body swells with raging discontent observable to any watching the downward spiral I presently ride since my return to the states.
I need an intervention, but since I make it impossible to
dominate me long enough for that sort of thing to be utilized, I shall do so
for myself by sending me on retreat. I go to write and to be alone and to chisel
off the icy marble attempting to stiffen me into the above mentioned, forever face.
This is not how this
story ends.
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