Weeds keep returning.

I think at this time it is wise I restart my blog, my own personal blog. Not the writing one that has been the source of much frustration and dissapointment (much like my actual writing or lack thereof) but instead my own.

For my thoughts and maybe for my own sanity.

It suits me that there are millions of these pieces of personal muse on the internet because burial feels secure and warm in the seasons cold day.

Putting down something personal actually feels more painfull in retorspect, the honesty stings when time has elapsed. To look back upon how you felt and what you have written about makes me skin crawl.

I have no idea why.

I think it's a form of acute embarassment along with the fact I hate reading my own writing in the main.

I need to articulate how I have been feeling for last two months, you see a depression unlike I have felt in a substaintial amount of time has transported itself over me. Currently brooding it's black mass over my head I do not really know what to do to shift it and maybe worst of all I do not know if it is worth doing so.

Feeling completely lost, exsaughted and ready to just give in brings me to a destination where I look out and wonder what exactly I have done or achived throughout my time.

Just faliure and relenting when I should persisted.

You may think you are in emotional trouble when you feel the pain but I think I have out the truth is that you are in trouble when you feel numb. Or at least jaded with the odd invasion of incredulios laughter.

So all of that, what I have just written. What is it for?

Well nothing as such, nothing you can use but maybe a step in getting this inky loathing out of my system.

I don't know what to do, I don't know how to think, if what I am thinking is correct, if it's wrong, if what I am feeling is wrong, how to be right, why to right. All ecompasing confussion and ever growing gllom fogs my heart and I just want to curl up and dissapear to somewhere other than here and be anyone else other than me.