Weird annoying. I'm finding myself at a total loss for words. I mean, I know exactly what I want to say, as long as I don't have to actually say anything.
It's just so damn clear to me, but the words either don't exist or they're really fucking good at hiding in my head. I can think them and I can feel them, but I can't articulate them.
I need to say something, but I find myself unable to say anything at all.
And dammit, this is important. Way more important than anything I've written in a long time. Maybe ever.
"How can I give this up?" I want to write.
"I can't give it up, it's everything to me," I want to continue.
Those words are nothing nothing nothing. The tip of the iceberg. A hint of an inkling of a notion of the truth.
Infinite is only a small portion of the whole. Forever is just the beginning. Unconditional is much too restrictive.
The words that I've said, the things that I've done, the feelings that I've felt - they're all just symptoms of a much larger truth.
Maybe the words really don't exist, to describe this. Maybe you need to look into my eyes, read my mind, feel my soul.
Or, maybe I'm drunk.
Go ahead and think that's all it is. It's easier.