I don't even know what to say anymore. It's not my right.
My husband says I've been acting very scattered recently, he's right. It seems like it's all been said, that there is nothing new to say. Just that I feel dull inside. Not new either.
Must go and pretend to be interested in my art, act as if. I watch life from a distance. Sort of detached, quasi-curious. wondering how is it that I am the alien. Where's my island of misfits? Planet of, really. This world does not fit. I'm undercover such that I've fooled myself. No idea where truth and fantasy separate, it all blurs together and all the while I watch, or hide. Keep waiting to wake up.
Last night I was so violent in my dreams. I was consumed with anger. I was hitting people, repeatedly, yelling so loud, swearing, it's a wonder I didn't wake my husband up. I carry this anger daily. it feeds my mistrust, my paranoia, my quick draw defensiveness. It wasn't even a scary dream, just - just - one where I was enraged and taking it out on everyone. Channelling my inner tasmanian devil
How cute is this???
OK, don't feel like writing anymore.