my whole body feels heavy and weighed down . . . slow.
my head is some sort of horrible weight on the rest of me and my thoughts cant force their way out of the cracks in my brain. their efforts make me ache.

There is a knot of sadness building up in me and a few words from the day before bouncng around in my head. as they ricochet on the walls of my insides they make a hollow sound like the tin man

I am working on writing a new play, its stil veyr much in the planning stages but i thought of a very good line that goes something like this:
"I'm empty. I feel like if you tapped your fist against my chest it would make that horrible metallic noise, like the tin man. The world just echeos around inside me."

I feel a bit like that now.

I feel so very detached and unconnected to everyone and everything. a marionette without it's strings.
and worst of all I feel incredibly and horribly uninteresting.

I have always been somewhat secretly delighted that, at the very least, all my imblances and sorrows made me interesting. Now, when life has fewer problems and I have fewer within myself . . . I feel as though i am boring. If i were a movie, would anyone watch? or would it just stop short after highschool because the screening audience responded poorly to the college years.

I want someone to come in and complicate things. to love me or hate me, to ripple the pond ever so slightly and cause something inside me.

anything