Me against myself.

Something is stopping me from writing today. No, it’s not the ‘writer’s block’ as many like to call it. It’s something else and it’s buzzing everywhere inside my head. Actually, it’s not letting me do anything. Everything is fuzzy. Heavy. Barbaric. But it’s not a headache. It’s something else. It’s beating me down, making me sad for some reason. Maybe it’s not making me sad. Maybe I am just anxious about something. I am stuck with this story since long. I need to finish it soon and begin another. I need to get down to doing it. I am coughing. My eyes are burning, or maybe I would like them to burn. Such is my mind. It thinks bogus, exhausts me for no damn reason. Such is my mind, giving in again and again to the itches of life. I haven’t dreamt lately. By dreaming, I am dreaming while in sleep. But I never really dreamt. Never. I had only nightmares. I had so many, I got tired of having them. Sometimes, they were so terrible, so cruel, so killing, I would open my eyes and I would find myself sitting without breath. Sometimes, I would find myself on the floor and my knees would be hurting because I fell on them.. I never remembered when I rolled down there. None of that has happened lately. I guess it’s because nothing is happening is happening lately. The coming week will bring me something. A lot of it won’t be quite pleasant but all will be mine to have. Maybe I will even start drinking again.

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