ambivalence will kill me long before

always i keep starting a new post in my head and it falls short, it fades, seems worthless. how can my words be worth anything if i am not? how can i be worth anything if my words are not? 

i have so much to say and no ability to say it. 


i have nothing to say and a constant urge to say something.


i embarrass myself and retreat in a flurry. only i am too much a hermit and no one notices i am gone. 


i want to throw up desperately but i do not want to eat. 


i want to eat but i don't want to throw up. but i don't want to eat. but i do.


i want to die but it's too much trouble. i don't really want to die. in the abstract, i suppose. i want to cease to exist, to be un-made. but already i do not exist. 


i am floating under this great grey apathetic depression. i cannot think and i think too much and whatever thinking happens comes in spurts and gusts and vanishes just as quickly. i am here and i am not here. i am trying to keep track of things but my head is full of dust.


i want to be a wraith, discorporate, made of the hanging particles in a beam of evening light. maybe then in a mirror i could recognise myself at last.