Left To Write

I have nothing to say, nothing to write about. The feelings inside are woven together like a snake orgy, writhing, attempting to force themselves to the surface, only to be suppressed. Suffering from the cold asphyxiation of your own pain, chewing back a tide acidic self loathing.

I've spend a year of my life working to figure out what has been wrong with my life. Now that I know it's almost worse then never knowing. It's that moment in life that proceeds a big change, good or bad, change none the less. Before, I had looked to find a solution to a problem that I believed I could solve. Now I find that the solution was there the whole time.

There have been many times that I have worried about what the future would bring, now I fear it.

All the while the pain and hate that brew inside me begins to boil.

Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com