by syaffolee

Sometimes things don’t go well at all and I feel cold. Very cold. It has nothing to do with the below freezing temperatures outside. This coldness is in my head, behind my nose. I’m not numb–because that would imply that I’m emotionless. Sometimes it’s so cold that I feel the icicles forming beneath my eyelids and in my throat. I feel like I’m turning into a flake. I’m scared. Stressed.

I can’t take refuge in sleep. My dreams aren’t exactly frightening, but they have a disturbing quality to them as if everyone and my subconscious are smirking at me. I wake up in the middle of the night, wishing I could see the moon and that my roommates weren’t such night owls.

I think I’ll take a walk to clear my head.

Enough with the dramatics already, where are the damn links?
The Myth of Sacred Writing Time. I’d like to think I write fairly regularly even if I don’t post every word online. I only wish I could write a little more than I already do.
Scandyz. Reminds me of somebody’s banana sticker collection I once ran into on the web.
40,000 Hotel Coat Hangers Stolen. Hahahaha! I think this banished my black mood. I guess I don’t need to take that walk after all.