Diary entry: current state

The most brutal thing sadness can do is rob you your imagination..the little dreams the power of hope so you are left with open  empty hands and a dry mouth.
I have been empty for a while running on shallow laughs and scruntizing and inspecting myself to pass the time while in reality things don't work like that.
You wish that humans were mathematicaly moved that feelings could be put on a scale of strength from 1 to 10 you wish that opening would bring you closer to a truth.. It only brings pain.
The theories i had of myself are only here to haunt me they keep me up at night they make me into a living nightmare void of any little dreams stripped off my hope left to suffer it's withdrawls.
I am not sorry for my sadness or the time it took to know that the truth isn't inside me but i am the truth and a truth is not angelic it's not pristine white it doesn't appear with wings and the beautiful sound of harp it's just familiar and it doesn't come to light until you are ready for there will be no turning back 

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