Fuck!

I don’t trust myself to write but that didn’t stop me – I have this tendency to spill everything at least the bits that will get me in trouble even when my mind is saying ALERT, INFORMATION BREACH, IMPLOSION IMMINENT – and this newfound inspiration to write comes from what has pegged me recently, in love, incomplete, insecure, intolerable – and I’ve got to say what I’ve got to say, but does that really mean I should say it? – I’m certain to regret it – and of course it’s all my fault for getting out of work late and I should’ve known that a difference in clocks would fuck it up like it did before, but before, I was the one ahead, now she is, she sleeps when I’m still blah from work – how long will she sleep? – I’m just bored, but I’m actually in love, I have been, but I trusted myself to keep myself busy, now she’s entered my mind again and she won’t get out – it’s the same trouble, and this time I have hope and it’s tearing me apart like the deterioration and erosion of the world only for something nice to possibly show – rough analogy, metaphor, and my depression did that for me – is it hormonal imbalance, because I’ve been almost 6 months without getting depressed over love and now it’s here again – I was happy and now I’m destroyed.