I wish I had something insightful to pass on to you to tonight, something inventive. To tell the truth, my creativity is descending with each thought my mind manifests. I’ve been experiencing intense feelings, I guess that’s how I can sum it up. My speech hasn’t been normal, I can hardly get a thought out without stuttering or slurring. My mind is racing far too fast for the my tongue to produce the oncoming thoughts. My aggravation is high, I’ve been punching myself, feeling an intense pain inside me. Like I’m ready to explode with an angry energy, not angry in the sense I’m unhappy, the energy just weighs heavy on me. My mind feels like taffy, being pulled and twisted by some unseen force. I can hardly keep a thought constant. That is why I have nothing astute to pass on to those who choose to read my ramblings. I wish to be a poet, I wish to be someone who imparts wisdom on others, someone to be remembered for her kindness and determination to her convictions. I wish to reach you all with my tender palms and guide you through your pain. I take on too much, I gather others sufferance and secure it to mine.
I feel like a wave of madness approaches, the waters lap at my door. Every moment of my life is on the border of pure insanity. I live every breath on the curb of a break down. I wish I had creativity for you all, but I have nothing to give.