I've been writing stupid emails and sending them to people. I've been apologising to some and terrorising others. I probably didn't need to do either but sitting on the floor between a tower of baskets containing hats, shoes and handbags and a six foot stack of cardboard it just seemed like the right thing to do. Nobody has replied to any of those emails, maybe they never will. I'm telling everybody I don't need anybody. I'm doing this while anxiety eats at any semblance of sanity and my essay sits in the bottom of the abyss. The Spatula offered to help with my essay but I couldn't think of a way into thinking about the damn thing so I said thanks but no.
I'm digging foxholes but what I really need is airstrip. I need teams with laser beams and someone to make my lamps go again. Its dark in here now. There's two bags full of ski boots next to my bed. I've never been skiing, I've never owned a ski boot. There are four empty bookcases in the middle of the hall. I keep making injokes with noone but myself about a song Brian May wrote about Freddy Mercury. Too much love will kill you in the end. I was doing it last night. People were finding me incomprehensible so I tried to explain about Brian May's hair and the song that popped into my head for no reason. Petey-O put his arm around my shoulder and gave me one of those looks, an its alright kid kind of a look. I was being incomprehensible, there's a table in the middle of the lounge room. I need to call someone but I've been sending stupid emails.
I'm digging foxholes but what I really need is airstrip. I need teams with laser beams and someone to make my lamps go again. Its dark in here now. There's two bags full of ski boots next to my bed. I've never been skiing, I've never owned a ski boot. There are four empty bookcases in the middle of the hall. I keep making injokes with noone but myself about a song Brian May wrote about Freddy Mercury. Too much love will kill you in the end. I was doing it last night. People were finding me incomprehensible so I tried to explain about Brian May's hair and the song that popped into my head for no reason. Petey-O put his arm around my shoulder and gave me one of those looks, an its alright kid kind of a look. I was being incomprehensible, there's a table in the middle of the lounge room. I need to call someone but I've been sending stupid emails.
Comments
Apologetic? Yes, often.
Terrifying? I'm yet to see that.