fingers stay idle on the keyboard in hoping that i could seep up the guts from it just so i would be able to type out a single sentence. because frankly, i have none to start with.
i wish i could drain the white from the printed alphabets and leave these black squares blank so that i could type out all of these floating thoughts in my head without following a formula. of course, my mind's getting deaf from voices that keep reverberating in my skull, demanding to be vomited out. they keep me awake at night. they haunt me in my moment of solitude. i have to let it out somewhere, somehow. my head isn't their place anymore. and not a word to a single soul because i don't think they belong in someone else's head either. but every time i try to sit down, try to let the words flow from my head, through my skin and bones, i hesitate.
"what if what i write isn't good enough? what if they're meaningless? are these words strong enough to represent my emotions? how about intimacy? what if people are able to decipher you in mere seconds upon reading it?"
i think. i think too much. a curse and a blessing at the same damn time.
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