bless the rain

I don't really care what I write or make. I don't know why people want me to punish them. I am having a hard time hearing my inner voice, knowing my internal world. I want to impress all of you, but I take no action.

The grand imitator. First stages of learning.

I have very little faith in myself these days. I can't pull anyone out of their slumber. I am drowning in papers. I don't want to come back here. I really wouldn't if I didn't feel I had to. I am proud of all the strange women with girlish faces. I don't want to eat anymore. Remember when I was fibrous? Remember when I moved?

I don't know what to learn or who to be friends with or even if I should devote the time.

I can't imagine what he's going through. I don't want him to be alone or to feel guilty on my behalf. I wish I was a strong person, but I am limp shower curls. You just have to get through a few more years. I feel so weak though. How could I hurt him? Why can't I keep my mouth shut?