I get this overwhelming feeling that I really need to write something. When I feel this way, a million different ideas pop into my head like woodpeckers. I get an itch and I need my fingers to scratch the board as the thoughts pour out. As soon as they are set into position, the waterfall stops and I am stuck – high and dry. The need and desire is gone like a sneeze that changed its mind.

At this moment in time I wonder why this happens to me. As soon as I read what I did manage to let out, it’s not good enough for me. It’s not what I am needing to see and process. I know what my heart and my mind need to speak but my subconscious is denying them the option. I think farther down in the pit my body is not ready for me to release the emotions that I know keep stirring and bubbling; though I am certain when it happens my adrenaline will be racing and I will want to physically stop myself.

I have to sit back and breathe in the remaining air in the empty house I am left in. I don’t feel at peace but I don’t feel angrier than I already am. There is no difference, today is both yesterday and tomorrow. So here I am, thrown out of orbit with my mind running in different places and even different dimensions. I’m not numb but I also don’t feel anything. I am just left existing in a world where others I have known no longer do.