I really don’t know what’s going on anymore. And I know that I’ve said this many times before, and you’re probably sick of hearing me lament about absolutely nothing. But that’s just it – the nothingness is killing me. It’s screaming into my face; telling me what I need to do in a voice that I cannot hear. I just feel the need to write something, anything. And that will ease the chaos. Why does this aimlessness always befall me? It pushes me into such a mood that nothing ever seems enlivening. There is no excitement to look forward to; the world is simply a mass of black heading towards more black. Sometimes I worry that I am not going crazy. Or maybe I am ill with melancholy and have never recovered since I first felt its poison touch.
On another note, I really like the name Elizabeth. It has a very soothing something that I don’t know how to describe. Recently, I heard someone say it, and it sounded so mesmerizing. Elizabeth. What a beautiful name; like a velvet curtain waltzing across the stage. Elizabeth.