My head seems to be overflowing, full to the brim with things so much so that another addition to it would have the same effect that one tiny drop of water has when it is allowed to fall into a glass full up to the brim.
Everything is jumbled up and i seem to be trying to tug at strings of thoughts that have instinctively wrapped around each other...so much so that my tugging only serves to worsen the confusion.
At times like these (and this is one such time) I feel, most direly, the need to express myself in inkblots, on paper or simply put in words. So I take out my diary that i have taken to ignore since some time now. I sit on my bed, propped up on a cushion. I take off the cap of the pen and flip open to a brand new page.
But just when i'm about to touch the nib to the paper, I stop... I don't know what to write! Not that I have nothing to write about but just that words fail to come. I don't know what to say...to myself, or to this make believe person I pretend to talk to...my diary. I'm speechless... at my inadequacy to express myself in words. There is something I want to say but what is it?