30025.) I want to get hurt. A car accident, anything. I want to get injured enough to wind up in a hospital, just to see if anyone would come to make sure I'm okay. And I'd pretend to be sleeping or dying so in case anyone actually did come, they would sit at the edge of my bed, crying, and tell me everything. I want to hear everything they've ever thought of me, how they really feel, if they're sorry for anything. I just want to know the truth. And I want to know who truly cares about me. Because if that happened to ANY one of my friends, I know I'd be the first person by their bedside. Why? Because I love them. And I'd do absolutely anything for each and every one of them. Too bad they'd never do the same for me.
Writer’s block, deleting every small thing I put down. Inspiration I can’t use. Thoughts without form, descriptions with no style. Drawings with no talent, visualizations nobody else will ever be able to see. Recurring thoughts, distracted…Stress without cause. No helpful outlet. Fidgeting. Loss of focus. Things I want to say, but can’t or won’t. A craving that I still can’t explain.
I can’t put anything together. Oh, the musings of someone who really shouldn’t be complaining.
n. [Brit. wallesia] a condition characterized by scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, which is your brain’s way of checking to see whether they’re still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day.