the less i do the more spint up in my own not doings i bcome, the faster i unravel, the quicker I tire, spring metaphor, slinky to some, 

i'm tired of wanting to speak and not having the words to make myself feel better. I've got to learn to just start somewhere, to just begin and know that everything is a point somewhere down the line. I just clicked away from this tab. I paused, so i clicked away. it was too uncomfortable, that brief moment of having nothing to say (for myself). 

everyone is in the ktichen talking. claire is in her room on the phone with her mom. I'm on the couch in the cluttered empty living room, writing myself company. I could go in there, but there's nowhere for me to sit. That's not really true. I don't know.