(no subject)
the oily fingers of depression are tracing their way up my shoulders and neck, setting off the tingles and flushness that come when one's been trying to work but achieving little. Feelings that I dont need present themsevles in waves, while the feelings that I should be feeling remain elusive, in a cycle of self refusal I dont let myself have the peace that I want. Regret and frustration are welled up inside me right now, I really need to get something done, to move forward. In so many dreams I try to move swiftly but feel the immense weight of my own limbs holding me to the ground, never able to call upon the motivation needed to really get moving. All the while the knowledge that I have the strength simmers in my thoughts, I look at my motionless legs and realise the only thing stopping me is me.
I'd like to go please.
I'd like to go please.