The Wall Before Me

I used to write. But now the wall stops me. The wanting hasn't been snuffed out yet, so there is still that daily anxiety of not writing. I've never finished anything of consequence. Probably never will. I've let my internet and drinking addictions rule and ruin me. The feeling of 'it's too late now' is a never ending hail storm in my brain. All the projects I'll never do, all the subjects I'll never learn, all the people I'll never love... just crushing. Maybe it's more like brushing up against the Cosmic Microwave Background than any actual wall. I feel all the way out at the end and out of time. Buzzing against an impassable Nothingness. The hum and electric field of dying. 

I used to write....