Oh Bother

Garble garble. When words fail to do what we hope they will always be there to do. I can't write this feeling down. I can only approach it the way one might a blinding light, or an ex-lover, peripherally. AH! How I wish I could mangle it between my fingers, squeeze out its power over me and wash it away with righteous remorse. If God is watching, I hope that they are entertained; are you not entertained?! Like tossing pebbles into a pond. They all make a splash but they are also going to end up at the bottom sooner or later. I have a healthy fear of lethargy. I also have a healthy fear of succeeding. No single direction can satisfy me now. I have to go in all of them at once. I MUST go in all of them at once and hope that the sheer exertion of force will splinter my soul into 100,000 pieces, and I will spend the rest of my eternity putting them back together. The cruelest joke. Here are all of your pieces, you have them all, you need only figure out how to put them back together. Don't worry, you can't go wrong, it's your soul. Then why do I feel so helpless?