Tonight's happenings

[friezaess]

I can't remember the last time I cried, and I certainly can't remember when I cared so little about my dignity that I would allow myself to do so in public.

And yet there I was a mere two hours ago, sobbing in the foyer of the Michie Building as people came and went, the ink of my pissy little short story being smudged by tears. In this state of emoness my mind wandered to some very dark places which only made me cry harder. I stared at my hands for a long time... those useless appendages that are supposed to put my creativity onto paper. As much as I wanted to, I didn't quite have the courage to stab my pen into them, instead putting a hole in my notebook. There's still little horseshoes on the palms from clenching my fists in despair.

First I lost my artistic abilities... now it's writing. That was the last thing I had left. I know I'm not perfect at it and there are more than a few people on my friends list who could kick my ass at both activities, but... I was good at it... I always got top marks... now when I look at a page of what I've scrawled down all I can see is pure unadulterated shit. It's not just writer's block. I know because this is exactly the same problem that destroyed my drawing. As soon as I start comparing myself to other people, I lose it.

Ugh. I can't keep typing, my eyes are so goddamn tired. I wish I could just live in my dreams forever.