I feel blank today. Not anything. I want to feel something. I thought once I started typing, words and (hopefully) some sort of emotion would flow out, but nothing. I am faintly frustrated, but not enough. Not enough of anything. It's uncomfortable. But not uncomfortable enough. There's a pea under my mattress. I'm okay, I guess, but something feels a little wrong. And I'm tired. I finally have a day off from work, the first in over a week, and I can't enjoy it, really. I'm just sitting here blankly. I feel guilty that Lucy wants my attention and I can't muster any. I'm trapped inside this cotton ball head. I'm almost too tired to care.
A few hours later...
In a matter of hours, my mind has gone from an aloof and confused mush to angry, closed up and defensive. I don't know why. I know that this shouldn't be normal and probably isn't. I went to the store and felt paranoid that people were thinking terribly of me (which they may have been, my hair was a mess). I have a bottle of whiskey in my possession now, which gives me a little bit of peace. I'm hoping to get good and drunk and write some terrible poetry, feel like myself again.
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