it’s thanksgiving. it’s been almost a year since i was last in hospital. minus a few months. i miss the misery. it’s been so long since i last took a blade to my skin or swallowed down pills for an overdose. the blades perhaps in october. i need to have something to hold onto and there is nothing, everything feels so slippery. i wish i had someone i could see in real life and hold and just not be so alone here at home. i’m lonely and sad. i’m like an empty paper bag.
i think that i need to concentrate on my writing more. perhaps it will help. except that i have no inspiration. nothing. i want to have the words to make something worth reading. to have more than petty complaints and whining.
the others at the poetry seminar loved my prose poem. i felt like i was on top of the world. and now i have nothing to write. the blank page is in my head.
