therapeutic spewing

I'm going through the motions of being. There is little spirit behind it. Time will keep passing, things will get done, and someday it will all be a sad memory. Right now, it is still a burning tightness in my chest. I want to drill a hole into it and let out the pressure. I want to bang my head to stop the thoughts. Instead, I talk, I write, I do chores, I exercise, I take pills. Anything to shut my mind off. None of it works, all of it helps. Twenty two hours of driving over the holidays gave me way too much time to think and feel, and the thought trains are still barreling down the tracks of my pysche. I've lost faith in all aspects of my self. Until I can find it again, I'm looking for numb nothingness.

I haven't looked at myspace in weeks. I won't anymore.