Heavy. In a word, it sufficiently depicts the state that I am in. Simple, heavy. Not heavy in the physical sense, though that is probably true as well, but heavy as in I can feel the weight of my little world
pressing in from every corner. Ask me and I'll be the first to admit that this little world of mine, created and constructed inside the corridors of my musings and walled-in memories, seems to be rather small; however, this particular world I know to be peculiar and cruel- suited for a face carved from
granite. I am neither a stone nor am I a statue, so it only stands to reason that eventually I must move on to another landscape- to another sector and portion of my conscious existence. As of now, I am retired by the most lamented and lonely set of terms that I have chanced to lay my eyes upon. Explain this to me- how is it that a person, once bright with compassion and inspired by intellect, can become so stagnant and indifferent to the incredible passions of the heart, the dizzying processes of the mind, and the inspiring persuasions of the soul?
I wish to continue but my eyes have grown tired and my words have been dammed by nothing other than a bout of apathy. I apologize if my writing seems rather...cold. It's just more simplistic for me this way. I am exhausted and, even with my desire to return to the creative weaver-of-words that I once was (though that is a very audacious and obscene claim to make considering any single list of ramblings that I have ever construed may as well be dust floating on a winter breeze; insignificant and unseen), I cannot collect an ample amount of energy to return to that motivated and inspired state. If you're reading this, then I suppose I should thank you. Thank you for any time you've allotted to skim my words. Hopefully your hours are spent better than mine. Again, thank you.
~Amanda
