Stew

I've been willing myself to write, but I haven't got a a good grip on my life these days. I'd be breaking down, trying to fit in, disintegrating against the background, forcing to understand and accept, reducing myself into a mole, justifying the bad, praying for tomorrow, hoping for the good, dreaming boundlessly. And it doesn't stop so I get tired every now and then. I get tired of dreaming (I don't seem to end up there anyway), of praying for tomorrow (Lord, hear my prayers! I still know you will), of trying to fit in (What's the point?), of hoping (I reduced myself into a what now?), of mercilessly running and running and running... towards the goal I now call a void. I am not feeling anything. I want to know how to feel again. I want to know what it feels like to have something I'd cherish in the future... kind of a sense of fulfillment. I don't finish anything, that's the problem. And most of the time I run away... when it's too cold or too big or too difficult or too strained or too happy or too depressing. I'm scared of feeling again because I haven't been for a long time.