Lately when I try to talk, I need help to start. I need help to get to the middle, and by the end I've given up. My words are thoughtless, and this thoughtlessness is burdensome. The world I see is thin as painted paper, pasted over the dead world. Thin thoughts struggling just to be thin words, which fall through the thin air, hitting a world painted thinly.
Today I did stuff. I met a new counselor, and I'm not sure he believes me. I'm not sure if I believe him. I do believe he believes he'll be able to make me believe him. And I'm naive enough to believe he'll get it right. I watched some television with Mike. As his dogs barked, I saw Erica and Brady going up my driveway, and like a gust I met their backs in moments. We went for a ride through the woods on bikes, though I believe mine and Erica's bikes were broken badly. Erica lost her cell phone and Alex's iPod, so we rode back through the woods until finally at the very entrance to the woods a neighbor called to us saying she found Erica's stuff. Afterwards we went and got the sap from our backyard, and my mum made us an English dinner. She believes this consists of toast, hardboiled eggs, and tree sap tea. That sounds about right. Erica, my mum, and I went to a modern dance performance at a stage downtown, however it was really just a modern dance preview. Something about someone, Shen Wei. The tickets were free, we're suckers for free. It was a time eater, that is all I know.
Before bed tonight I drew a pastel on grey. There is no inspiration to sap from thin thoughts, no advice to tap from these thin lips.
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