Sunday, 28 March 2010

All good things are wild and free.

My brain is so fast tonight, that nothing I type is sticking- I am destructive and all I can find right now to destroy are my own typed words. My thoughts are so fast that by the time I get them out, on the screen, they've gone and so whatever I have written isn't true, the words are empty- the thoughts of a character, that I'm trying to pass off as my own. Maybe I should give up; but I can't, I can't move and I can't stop typingtypingtyping until I've decifered myself. I think it's the claustrophobia that's bothering me tonight- I started typing because I was feeling bound by my own likes; things that I'm reliant on, that I can't leave, as much as I wish I could cut my ties and run away. I want to run away, but I don't know what it is I want to escape.

This is insanity, trying to lasso your thoughts in order for you to order them. But really, is that what I'm doing? Am I trying to translate them? Am I separating... Oh, no. I was wrong. True insanity is being so trapped you don't know what it is, that-


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