Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Saturninity

I'm writing without knowing what I want to write, putting words down without having any idea of what is going to come next.

I don't know what to feel. I don't know what to think. Truth be told, I don't even know if I want to feel or think at all at this stage.

If I let myself feel I might not be able to stop. If I let myself think I might not be able to sleep. 

I've never really been inarticulate. Yet ironically I find myself with just one thought stuck inside my mind...on an infinite loop. And a pointless one at that.

And I need to dwell on something besides that, anything. Just to fill the silence in my head. And the stillness inside me.

Until the moment the stillness stops being a cocoon of suffocation - and becomes the blissful state of detachment it once used to be.

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