Mini-story
Whenever I feel like I can't bear it anymore, my fingers instinctively reach for a pen. I clutch it tight, and I start scribbling, I write it out. I let the pages take the pain. I make the ink bleed for me.
But lately the words,they have failed me. Inside my mind ,chaos resides.
Jumbles of words. An enundation of thoughts. hundreds,thousands, hundred thousands. Countless , yet locked away. They can't bleed through the ink,they can't mar the page. Inside my mind,with no way out,colliding and whirling words drive me mad.
The writing used to help, but now I can't write.
I can't cope.
I can't feel.
© Ma-cal