So, tonight, or this morning to be more precise has been dedicated to writing. I've written pages and pages and I can't seem to stop myself. Here, my little thoughts notebook, my theories, my stories. Well, tonight was rather, an harbinger of feelings, and all things secret relic, holy, sacred, magical, sorrowful. Eventful to say the least. Who would of imagined. Certainly not me.
And I still can't seem to stop writing. So what is it that I truly want to say, that I truly feel that seems to boggle everything, unmuzzled my very own solid foundation of beliefs, my sturdy dedications, firm convictions, my very own mambo-jumbo heart, that is scarred beyond words?
I absolutely have no idea.
My head is about to split into two, and I am dull beyond expectations. I should be hyper, broken, relieved, lots of energy and more than I can carry on. Instead, I wrote, and I watched. Writing, is typical but watching t.v. definitely not. Every sense should be alive, instead there is something amiss, something very wrong. To be this calm, collected, and be able to recollect everything. I am sure this is going to eventually register in the following days, and it's vengeance is going to be brutal and beyond for me.