LATE NIGHT PSCYHOBABBLE

sometimes i wish i could just stop writing. writing makes me psychotic. it opens doors to the parts of my mind that are full of nightmares, of neurotic lies, of impossible realities. i am so lost. i don't know where to go, who to talk to. i sometimes feel so lonely. i don't know why--because i don't know who i look for. i would've laughed at myself if i was who i was two years ago. there are too many unanswered questions, too many faces i cannot decipher. too many conversations that are mere small-talks. sometimes i wish i could live a life dictated to me. freedom of my mind is a dangerous thing. time makes me wonder, makes me crazy, makes me think about things too dangerous, too unnecessary. i wander the forbidden forests at night with no torch and nobody else. its a lost battle at times-- i battle my own instincts against my own thoughts, actions. at times, i want to share coffee at a cafe, or run around the lake and sit under the bridge (maybe, tomorrow). i keep typing and typing and my mind is running wild. its nice and quiet. i saw yassi today and had a spontaneous meal with her and another soul-talk. thank god, for friends like her. i was going to paint tonight but i am scared. i like late-night mind-wanderings and the noise my fingers makes against the keyboard. tomorrow is a new day. new smiles. new faces. new hellos.