Losing Time

Losing time, and blindly fishing around inside of a vacant mind, is what I have been trying to do. I have given up on recovering time that really doesn't matter anyway. It is hard not to feel hopeless though...as if I will forever be losing my way. The other night when I dissociated, I did happen to find a small journal that I always keep in my purse to write in, and here are some scribblings from that evening.
bombarded~ with memories filled with pain that feels like a dream, but the tears that threaten and come to the surface with no warning, tell me that it is real. My anger is so close that I can reach out and almost touch it. I hate-so much. What if there is no tomorrow and the words I've said are lost...everything echoed...all of your sorrow wrapped inside the voices you hear.
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