Tryin' to figure out the time zones makin' me crazy

I hate when I can't find my words.

I hate when it feels like there is a stone wall holding up the passage between my words and the thoughts they form.

In life, it feels like the only thing I have control over most days is my words. So when they don't come, I don't know what to do. I can feel them pushing against my cranium, trying to get out. But what am I supposed to do when I can't find them the door? It feels like just one more failure, one more door I couldn't get open.

I know thats life. At least, the sane part of me understands that sometimes you've gotta lose, and that sometimes as much as you try, you can't fix or control everything. But there's always this part of me, that thinks maybe I can. Maybe if I just do a little more, or try a little harder, I'll be able to do it in the end.

So here I am. Pounding my head in frustration because I can't get my words out. I need to get them out, to lay them down and analyze them. All that happens when they're stuck up in there is that I can't figure out where one ends and the other one begins. It's how I'd imagine a being in a bomb would feel like. You've got all these excited atoms, bouncing around and colliding and thrashing so fast you can't tell which ones which. Until all of a sudden....

   BOOM! Impact happens, and the dust is flying. Then, and maybe not even then, after the smoke clears the rubbles spelling it out. Disaster. Straight up.

Hence, I want to get them out. Put them down, in lists, in poems, in blog posts. Anywhere. Just somewhere I can't get judged, and I can sort through it all.

But I can't. I can't get my words together. I can't get them to say what I want. I can't get them to make sense. I can't get them to get the message across. I know this looks like a message, or an idea, or a thought. But it's really not.

This isn't the teenage angst inside of me boiling up. This is Emily, the pseudo adult. That in between before I have to attempt to have a real life, and figuring out what my real life is going to consist of.

This sucks.