I'm having one of those days.
Words aren't working. Books don't work, it's like something's broken in my reading system. Talking to God seems pointless, I can't make the words express how I feel. I'm a word-junkie, I live for books. How can they seem so pointless, so empty?
The most meaningful thing I did all day was to lie on a bench, looking up at the sky and listening to the wind in the trees. I can't describe the feeling of the roar of the wind in the trees. It's more an image, a drawing, a scribbling on the atmosphere.
I give up on words. Today, they don't do anything for me.
I want a hug, a kiss, a squeeze, a shoulder to cry on.