photo credit: StefanoBonazzi
... I've come to talk with you again
These old walls have heard several thoughts. Lately, it has been creaking under the weight of all the thoughts. Like seams about to burst, there must be release. But will it ever come?
Words are not forming from my lips. Ideas kept in my mind are merely released little by little through writing down thoughts. Then at night, it gets filled again.
Forgetting is not an option. What these walls need is a good cleaning, a good reorganization.
Sleep does not come easily. It simply is easier to converse with myself as no words need to be spoken. Such is the case with writing as well.
Converse with me in person and I either launch babble that I do not necessarily intend to speak, or go blank because of personal censorship. Aside from smiles and nods, what else is there to talk about? Nothing of importance, nothing at all.
I am tired.
Is this depression?
Perhaps. All I know is that I prefer to let it be.
I truly love those who respect my silence.
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