Oh, how cryptically she whines.

[dreemcy]

My words are constipated. I'm far too jittery to be comfortable sitting here and far too confused to do anything. My fingers tap restlessly on the desk, before they finally settle on a few keys that will form words of breifly attainable thoughts. My feelings block up my arteries and I fleetingly think maybe something important might stop circulating. I wonder why everyone gets so worried and think something is wrong when I reveal what I really am. Is it so strange to get worked up about life sometimes? Sometimes I think they're not really living. I might be passive, but I'm aware of what is happening. These people are afraid of importance.

(notepad doc April 22 2006)