the truth...

Truth be known. I don't feel like writing. I don't feel like drinking. I don't feel like going out at all. I don't feel like talking. I feel like reading. Napping. Staring at my ceiling, and then repeat it all over again. I feel the curve of the earth and I feel a fear of slipping right off of it's round surface and floating into a gelatinous space where I am weightless and truly alone.