6/9/89
It is a Friday and it's raining. I'm having trouble concentrating lately, I seem to be in a fog.While doing my work, i continuously find myself gazing out the window over this damp cold city.I'm starting to feel a wanderlust. I feel the buildings crowding me into their dirty deceiving centers. I feel like a wild animal trapped in a cage. A vice. These sights are maddening. Rooftops and chimneys. Bricks and windows like cloudy eyes. They are all around for as far as I can see. The sky is not blue. It is black and grey and all enveloping. I'm starting to feel that there is no escaping this maze. It has come to the point where sunlight cannot fill our eyes, but only the neon and fluorescent bulbs of artificial day. I have habituated rambling. There is no real topic or point to my words. I am confused and disoriented. There are conflicts in my mind. All i hear is talking, syllables, but not the words. I can't grasp their meanings. What are they trying to tell me? What are they really saying? Is it a warning? A promise? Nothing at all but nonsense? Does it matter?
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 2:07am on Nov 14, 2024 via server WEBX1.