6.28.2005

An Island Never Cries

Lately, it has been next to impossible for me to sleep when I know I should. Today is no different. I find myself more and more wanting to sleep all day when I should be doing constructive things. I find that, as soon as the sun goes down, my head spins with thoughts and feelings and the urge to express them. But I don’t have the words in the right order. Or something pushes the wrong ones out and keeps the right ones inside. I don’t know if it is because there is too much going on in my head or that there is not enough in there to sustain something long enough to have it make sense.

Things used to come out in a stream of sentences that, when I was done, surprised even me. But in the last few weeks very little, if anything at all, is being said. So much is happening that I can’t say outloud. Or even here, where things are at least partially anonymous. It is almost as if, I feel that if I say these things, then somehow they become real. Right now I can deny them. I can push them somewhere deep into the depths of my mind and not think about them. And somehow, that is comforting. But the moment that I assign words to them, they will be out there, and I won’t be able to ignore them anymore. They will stare me in the face. (Ironic songs always happen when I write things like this. Ironic song of the evening: “I am a Rock”. Hello?)

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