what a wonderful phrase.

i don't have much to say. but i'll say it anyway.

i could blow through the ceiling. my fingers are shaking so fucking hard i don't know what to do with myself. i can't write anymore. i went outside to write, to recreate what i lost on the computer & i just couldn't do it. maybe it was because of the wind, so much wind blowing hair into my face, my mouth sticky.. but i don't think a little tail wind would do that much damage. i'm scared of this. i'm teaching myself how to write with my left hand. maybe this will fare well. i don't know what to do. i feel like my fingers & my hands are completely disconnected from a pencil, that all this typing has made what was once the sacred battle ground of writing so.. trite & obsolete. i'm afraid of losing my journalistic ability, that it's all fading with this eerie loom over me, my head, my thoughts. exercise your right to write. god. my hand is cramped & screaming at me. stop stop stop. voices.

i'm worried, i'm worried. i'm worried about things i cannot control, things i have no say in whatsoever. i'm worried. i have a long history of worriers, so i'm allowed to feel this way. but i'm not allowed to feel so that my neck tightens like a crowbar against my back & i shiver & shake & want to throw up. panic, panic. stop stop enough. i'm so scared. where are you when i asked for you? tense shake it out. breathing. thhhhh. i feel contractions in my throat that make me gag for no reason.. my nose is running & it has the tickling sensation that it needs to sneeze, but won't. my lower back feels like it does when i have bad cramps. the inner palm of my left hand is twisting over backwards inside itself. my feet & legs won't stay still & i'm squirming all over the place. fuck fuck. my toes my feet rubbing the skin which is already dead off to a grave on the floor. i'm shaking & the window is open & every now & then i feel the breeze come in & i'm chilled through. i want to take that bag of fake snow & pour it into my eyes. my teeth chatter & grind & my jaw strains to stop it. my entire head feels like wobbly headed bob. squueee. just shoot it off. i want to find myself under your covers. save me?

{& her voice is strained.}