Sinking Relapse Probability

I can feel my heart beginning to ache to a stinging pain again. I almost feel like I'm drowning; I can hardly breathe. Today has been a day where my wanting to cry has been quite apparent. Today I was completely and utterly consumed with the strong urge to cry unyieldingly and as of right now as I am procrastinating on my studying for my midterm tomorrow, I am still overwhelmed with that desire, but alas, my seriously strange inability to create even the slightest tear under my own real pretenses that stem from my erratic sentiments although I manage to tear up at the slightest heartfelt media on television has made me unable to release my pent up frustrations. I want to drag the fine cold silver across my skin, chain smoke Marlboros, drink more than one shot of strong substance, anything to take away this massive anxiety that has clouded my chest and decided to stay for the time being.

I hate this. I hate that I hurt everywhere. Again. I hate that it's come back when I was really starting to begin to feel like maybe nothing was wrong with me and that I was actually just as ordinary as I perceive my talentless soul to be. I hate how I want to do nothing all day but stay in bed as I crawl into the comforting fetal position of a ball at hopes of pushing every hurt away from my entire being.

It's like I have to start all over again. Everything is a vindictive cycle.

I wish I could cry. No, I wish I could bawl. That has somehow led me to think that if I do, the cloud will slowly dissipate.

I didn't want to write anything today. I thought about it, but when the pain starting to become easier to accept, I just wanted to avoid it and run the other way. I think I've found the root of my semi-writer's block or lack of motivation to have my thoughts spill on virtual paper day after day as I used to do. The reason for my lack of participation in posts have been because though I may feel a certain way at the time, I do not have my laptop with me at my convenience to be able to type everything out at the very second. So, eventually my emotions subside and I lose my nerve. And most of all, I choose not to archive my emotions because I have started to fear myself relieving the intensity of first hand shock if I do decide to later on post my recollections. I have realized that this constant aching pain is not something I choose to let myself relive. And at that I have begun to step into the realm of avoidance and repression. And oh look, just like that my fluidity of tongue has finally come back to grace me with its consequential presence.

I have to study now, but at least I managed to get that out.