stuck.

the restlessness is back.

brain wandering,
mouth moving,
body breathing,
    none of it is connected.  or satisfying.

nothing.
the bottom drops out of life
                 -occasionally.
and bitterness kicks into fourth gear.
the optimism
nose-dives off a cliff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“clearly in literature, flying is freedom.  falling is failure.”
don’t tell me what this represents, just let me be.  i want to make everyone go away.  i walk down the hallway and feel like a wall of glass seperates me from everyone else.  i speak only to be shut down and turned off.  i am in a place where nothing is wanted but nothing is given.  i am stuck, stuck in neutral.  i am plummeting.  i feel it physically.  i sit, and i melt into puddles if i am alone, or harden into a sullen statue. 

have you done this to me?  i would love to throw blame in your face.  what are we doing?  we are tango-ing slowly with the other’s shadow.  i long for your look, your touch, your conversation, but i do not allow myself to give you mine.  i am shy and reserved, no longer myself.  i am trapping myself in a corner with the thoughts of things that have not failed yet but will.  walk with me.  can we talk?  we are awkward, i am tense, and i can tell you don’t care.  ask me a question before i scrape all the skin off my hands with my fingernails.  you make me want to scream.