in a timeless, placeless place

[j4]

There are two phrases that keep coming into my mind: I'm just so tired and I want to go home. I don't even know what they mean any more, really. "Tired" is what happens between waking up and going to sleep. "Home" is something that happens to other people.

I can't go on like this. But I don't know how to stop.

I don't think I can even go on for another week like this. So I just go on for another day. And another. And another. And so on, until they days become... nothing. I haven't experienced a month for over 5 months. Just a string of days, and the occasional week.

I feel so hollow inside from crying and from not sleeping. I don't want to sleep now. Maybe I'll never sleep again. I don't want to draw lines between the days, you see. Then I won't have to live another day, I can just go on living this one, and telling myself that I'll give up tomorrow.

I can't see any future. I can't even see tomorrow morning. It'll happen whether I like it or not, but I can't envisage it, I can't plan for it. It'll just shake me rudely awake when the time comes, and there'll be nothing I can do about it, and I'll get up and get dressed and go out as if I'm still dreaming. Maybe I am.

Comments

[k425.livejournal.com]

Why is it good and right? Because there's a good chance that there will be an end to this and things get enjoyable again. And I'm pretty sure things will get enjoyable again.