Unable to spill it out.

This mundane situation has made me speechless…

I have become fully aware of how inarticulate I have become, and how that has hindered the process of creative writing.

I don’t like to read.

I hate reading.

Sometimes.

Sometimes.

It is quite interesting how words can dismantle you.

Dismantle sounds negative.

It is quite interesting how words can evoke so many different emotions from you, and so quickly. Slowly, but surely, extracting every last bit of laughter, tears, rage, sorrow, joy your body could possibly muster up.

Focus.

I need a jump start. My car has been dead for a while. Just slowly rotting. Slow enough to be unalarming. Fast enough for me to realize that if i do not start this car soon I’m going to be the last one home. I hate being last. Dead last.

I am not P.C.

This entire entitty

Hahahahahahahahahah Freudian slip/typo

This entire entity that I've slowly become is very unsettling.

I need Jesus.

Do I?

So many things I haven’t done. Having a mid-semester crisis.

I need a release.

No. Seriously.

Ahem.

Please.