June 14, 2013

  •      These infernal emotions screw everything touched by them up. You would think a benevolent God would possess at least one means of living that didn't include what is vomiting feels. Or perhaps, in His infinite wisdom, it's found to be wise to relinquish entirely the notion of able control? Is it possible, maybe, I might introduce myself, once, unencumbered by practicing knots with my tongue like a sport? I would rather articulate audibly, thank you –
         Enough! These incessant internal soliloquies come to their end: I will not spend the whole of my life merely prattling on in my head in confinement by simple petitions that form in me ceaseless unrest from prolonged indiscretions in which it is clear that I can't be provoked to the point where I don't find offence at expecting to shed all my thoughts
         "Really, Chrissy, this time can be better spent than in silence." Chrissy doubted that there was any realization to it but the pen was beginning to tap against the notepad in time with the clock on the wall. A sigh. "I can't help you if you have no interest in helping me. You can leave unless you're going to actually add anything to this discussion." There was a second's pause before Chrissy got up from the chair, muttering,
         "'Fraid I won't."