no news, is bad news

and there's no news -- nothing but the same stress that is just not worth rehashing -- the kind of stress that leaves me silent -- you know, the kind I can't get past my lips because it's pointless and because I've whispered and I've yelled to myself about these things before and it made no difference then, so it's hardly likely to make any difference now. The result will be that it remains the same. So what's the point of complaining - when I complain I strike out to place blame and it never matters who I blame for my life, and my circumstances, tho they were set in stone from the day I was born - so no matter what's to blame, I'm the only one who has to face the consequences.

So my lips are stitched shut in a kind of frustration i can't digest. I just don't even want to hear my own voice right now- I don't want to hear it echo inside me - in the emptiness - in the still, cold, void. It won't change what's happening. And now I'm so fearful, I'm scared that any movement I make will create another unwanted reaction ... some negative ripple in the lake of tears down in this well inside me.

So I'm being still. creeping along the earth, hoping my movements will not be detected for fear life will swallow me whole. I'm like prey on a vast open safari with no hiding place... something is waiting for me to make another mistake ... waiting for a chance to pounce on my life again. I wish you would tell me you know what I'm feeling because if I can't justify these emotions I may think I'm going insane.