I woke up disgusted.

I feel so sad it seems my heart will crack.

This time I know this feeling and can classify it: sadness.

It feels as if a blue fog came and engulfed me entirely.

I feel ugly and numb. I want to rise up as an arrow and cross the sky like a phoenix. Things feel upside down and life (seems to be) is unfair.

"Ugliness is an insult to others" says a girl in La collectionneuse (1967, directed by Éric Rohmer). The insult though, is towards myself.

My heart has dried up like an autumn leave (that) I cannot even cry out the neurosis.

I am on the verge of bursting my head out.

Even if it does happen though, I am sure I will not be able to reconstruct myself, pick up the millions of shattered cracks and build up a new figure, because the old one is already gone for too long before it was even reflected.

Can someone see this all going on? No; I hide too well. Disguise and swirl like a tornado, bumping, crashing on everything around and too hurried to see the damage.

What is this search? This unheard about search for joy; not even happiness anymore--that seems too deep and too harsh as well as this smashing grief for a living life.

And at the same time I am happy happy happy, so full of hope I could puke it all.

And at the same time I am sad sad sad, so empty I could be swallowed entirely up by this expanding void.

I started this thing hoping that at least I will feel better by dumping my (mental crap) problems on the net. (Will I though?) In any case this apathetic loneliness - this tiring loneliness that won't leave even when I'm surrounded by loved ones or other people - and this void - this emptiness that in its emptiness sucks me up like a black hole - are far too devastanting to be digested in silence.

So here I am.