for the past lifetime i have been writing and rewriting a book. its a disgusting process. i start new every couple months and it has ended up being more of a burden than anything else.
in writing this book im revisiting my past and its not doing me so well. it feels as if i am slipping back into it. slowly deteriorating my own sanity. im scared and clawing my way back to reality but with no success. i write another page and it sucks me painfully in. again.
reliving my tragic history sentence after sentence. memory after memory. it physically hurts my being. i can cry to let it out. i can scream to feel sane. but what is it worth in the end. the book has to be finished. the story must be told.