I do not know myself sometimes, or how to measure and name and count the grains that make me what I am. - Virginia Woolf
Sunday, 18 December 2011
irritation
the worst type of irritation, is that of being irritated with nobody but yourself.
i'm at a loss, as to what the cure of this emotional/physical/mental ailment is.
or even where to look, for it.
this restlessness, rubs me the wrong way.
now isn't the time, to leave.
to abandon all that is familiar, comfortable.
again, i realize i'm being self absorbed.
but really, how can you not be.
when you have your heart to yourself
well for the most part
going through life on your own
so here it is i find myself, locked up in my room.
candles lit. blinds closed. incense burning. music blaring.
anyone who is reading this.
please, take my advice
and don't speak to me, for quite some time.
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