Untitled.

Words. Words need to spill out. The feeling of forcing words upon paper is indescribable. No purpose, no inspiration, just the craving of letters to be spelled and thought and written. The things I want to write won't formulate into effective phrases; they merely mush together and refuse to be.

So how does one "overcome" such an unpleasant state? Should I type nonsense until something creative an useful comes of it? Or should I wait until the dullness passes? Will it ever pass? I guess I'll try the first, and if that doesn't work, I'll go with the second option. Here goes nothing.

What does that even mean? Obviously when people use the phrase, the thing they are going to attempt is not nothing. In fact, often it should be said, "here goes everything." but, I guess, it could be viewed as sarcastic.

I don't know what to feel. To not know what to feel is to watch neighborhoods and trees and nearby buildings combust spontaneously through blurred eyes. It is to hear screaming and sobs of terror, but not know what is going on. To watch outlines of figures running for their lives, while these feet remain in one place. It is to realize the one sobbing is me, and through the teary eyes I can't see anything clearly. I'm unable to communicate and soon become invisible to the people I care most deeply about. That is how it is to not know how to feel.

It frightens me. It intrigues me. It disturbs me.

"what's the difference if it all could have been true?"