Set You On The Glass.
It's 4:45...I've been staring at this Livejournal page for 15 minutes, and I have absolutely nothing to say. I can't write, because nothing comes to me. My imagination is blocked by this powerful barricade, I've got this sort of rage building up in my soul. This rage appertaining to my past, my present, and this uncertainty looming over my future like an unwanted raincloud. I can't went on people, because thats not their problem, it's not what I do. I can't write about it because I've lost the ability to write. I feel like lashing out at my computer monitor, ripping it from the electrical wires its connected to, and throwing it out my window. I want to get lost in a bottle of alcohol, and never find myself again. I can't fucking EVEN FUCKING CONCENTRATE LONG EFUCKINNOUGH TO WRITE WHAT THE FUCK I MEAN. WHAT THE FUCK. I'm seriously gonna fuckin just GO the fuck insane. I'm getting hot and flustered, and it's like...I'm fucking things up again. No, not that I am fucking things up, I HAVE fucked things up. And I can't fix them. I'm powerless to do so. I can make mistakes and not fix them. I don't want to...sit here in stew in my own shit, but what the fuck else can I do? Fuck it.