Sometimes I taste blood in my mouth from biting my tongue. Other times I've wished to shovel the words right back into my mouth. It's the triumph of the human spirit, and the weakness that breaks us down. It is "I am", "I can't", and everything in between.
Twenty minutes past 4--I'm staring, fixated on exactly what I'm hearing. I'm interested. Geuinely interested.
Half past 9--My fingers feverishly press keys that translate into words that translate into feelings.
I once was lost, but now am found. Then I will fall asleep and start all over again tomorrow.
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