...
The craving for a cigarette right now has overtaken me & my lack of oxygen and all chances of relaxing is shot to hell because now I'm tweaking. I've been doing very well without smoking. It's just ever since I went down there again I picked up the bad habit because pretty much all of my close friends smoke. It's a sick habit that I know I should rid myself but my dependence on it in stressful situations overrides the health issue.
Unease. My voice lacks in articulation because I burnt myself out yesterday by brainstorming for a poetry project that was due today. & now, I can't write because I don't have any thing else to say. I used it all up in my poems. But I need to say something. I need to get something off my chest but I don't think anything is worth saying unless it's said well & there's no way I can beef up my witty remarks in the condition I am in.
A sick form of writers block.
I had my last smoke yesterday & now I wish I hadn't because the craving for one at this very moment is making my eyes roll to the back of my head. My throat hurts from swallowing hard over and over again. How else am I suppose to get rid of this anxiety? There is no way I can call up someone right now to get me some squares.
These words. Stuck. Tip of my tongue. Gone. Repeat.
Crying is a sign of a weakness & I would never admit to being any less than strongest and the best. But I feel it. I feel that nose tingling, eye twitching, throat tightening feeling. I take that back.
I've written this entry at least 6 times & I just can't get it right. I just can't say what I want to say.
...
I need a lot of time to think about ...
I'm going to take a break from diaryland. Or at least try to. I'm not going to feel obligated to write here to prove you to all that I can write. Because I can. I really can. ... Can't I?
God. So many things. So many damn things.