Saturday, May 9, 2009

Crisis

I am smoking a cigarette for the first time in years.

I never smoke. At least that's what I tell people. In reality, I usually never smoke. Except when something is terribly wrong inside and I'm falling apart.

If I could only figure out what it was. And then, how to make it right.


I have anxiety I have never known. I feel like a ball of nervous energy. I feel an emptiness so profound it is almost tangible.

To the casual observer I am the picture of mental health. But when I inventory my scattered mind, I find more fault than attribute and I wonder what's the point of it all?
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