Saturday, October 30, 2010


I like this word: alexithymia. It means, "an inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner". Alexithymia keeps me awake at night, drags every bit of motivation and joy out of my life, and leaves me dried up and worn down in a puddle of my own...alexithymia.

What can I verbalize about this that won't sound petty and unbelievably small in the world? You who dies for attention, and knows just the type of person who will give it to you. And they do, every time. A sad weak little whiner of insignificant traumas in a life of ultimate stability. The very epitome of what Ms. Wollstonecraft lamented about her kinswomen over 100 years ago, and you in your predictability perpetuating the whole bilious cycle. 

It's enough to make a person sick.  

Humanity can be so disappointing, especially when it's a human you love who's letting you down.

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