Texting

The only bit of text on my phone

Texting, I hate it, trying to think of the right words, how to put feelings into what you say, without appearing abrupt or rude. Today I had a text and each answering phrase I wrote was edited four or five times. You can’t put nuance into texts. If I were a poet I could add different ideas and concepts to help make things more clear. But texting is generally short and simple. But also not always considered. At one stage I hit the thumbs up symbol accidentally that was not appropriate. I wish I could have deleted it. All I could say was sorry.

Sorrow

I won’t show my face fully because I feel like every part of me is breaking up into tiny pieces of nothing. I am numb. I want to talk, but I want to stay silent. But the creative urge pushes me to make an image of how I’m feeling, inside as well as out. They say time heals. I hope it can glue my soul back together, or a stich in time will darn my minds pieces into a whole again. I am torn into atoms and scattered.