it's been a long weekend
I find myself constantly wondering what it is I am doing here, laying awake all these nights openly complaining to anyone willing to read my empty life. My fruitless search for meaning in a life that has little to anyone but me, isolated here, island standing alone in a lake of brambles swallowing anyone willing to get close.Anger and hatred for things that are out of my controll have ruled my life for so long now I'm not even sure I know who I am. So much is different about me, around me and within me, that I suppose I failed to not make a distinction between neccessity and reality, to what I must have become to what I was all along. The me from the "that which you see". Playing twister with myself, left hand throat, right foot soul, I don't think I can go on, when I realize that thinking is what got me here in the first place, the voice inside my head which is not me is thinking again, the physical body which is me reacts to it's desire for rest, and that is me...I shall heed the call of the real me and fall asleep on my still thinking perception of myself.