I just don't feel like writing anymore. I think. But also that feels like a lie. I DO want to write. But somehow i can not. I will not. I don't have the ability or urge or desire. Then again, i don't have much desire at all these days. I am motioness. Inert. Nonfunctional it seems at times. What am i doing with myself? What am i doing, period? I am sitting. And walking to and from the kitchen and bathroom. I am playing World of Warcraft with D and R. I am watching tv. Watching tv. Watching tv. Watching tv. Watching tv and sleeping. Press repeat and replay. Start the day over. Again and again. This is my life. I travel in circles. I exist.

Who can i blame for this. Is there anyone who will volunteer? Please raise your hand as i look around The Room. Ah, D i see. Thankyou for making yourself an available receptacle of my unpleasantness.

His dissapproval cinges me. The disdain burns through my skin while moistening the sockets of my eyes. I am making his life miserable. He's annoyed with me. I destroy his focus. I rain on his cloudy days. I keep him from his solitude and silence. I disturb the order of his well-controlled space. He dislikes me. It's true. I feel it. He wishes i wasn't here. That i'd go away. He wonders if this was all an irreputable blunder that will wreak future havoc too horrible to imagine.

At times we barely speak. In respect for him, i try hard not to actually, for i'm well aware of how the sound of my overbearing voice causes him to cringe. I make ME cringe! What do i have to say of worth? Not much. I hear mainly babble and childishness from my mouth. A goofy woman trying too hard with little regard for pride. Cackling and cartwheeling like a circus clown. So i try to be sensitive in hopes that if only i do the right thing, he will begin again to love me, like me, want to be my friend and even more idealistically, adore me. My heart's desire - to adore and be adored.

Do i dare write this? True i allready wrote it, but do i dare publish it? What if he read it? Would it further enflame what doesn't exist? Would it be irrelavent? Is it my imagination? Am i exaggerating for dramatic effect? Will i feel better (a release) or worse (create conflict where none exists.) I don't know, but i am in this moment sad. A new sad. A sad that is different than the sad before. I am sad and stangely sometimes lonely. Alone with my thoughts and despair for fear that sharing them might make them exist.

Maybe if i was beautiful? More alluring. Thin. If only i had that special something (whatever that might be) to more difinitively endear him and secure a lasting, cozy place in his heart. What is it that i could do to make him love me? Want me? Need me? Desire me for always.

But like all moods this is fleeting. In 20 minutes it is gone. And in fact there will be bliss.