I'm sitting somewhere between hopelessness and despair.
I am speaking, but my voice sounds tinny and far away, disembodied. My words form in the back of my mind and then disappears. Sometimes it is too late to catch them and send them out. My mesage is unclear. The words fall and tumble out my mouth. I'm saying everything yet nothing at all.
I am moving, but my limbs hang loosely around me and my movements are jerky and forced. I am a puppet on a string and I am performing. The act of my life.
The tears... are real. They roll down my cheeks and fall upon the floor. It is raining,... I can make it rain today.