i feel so void of happiness. all feels bleak and pointless. my head pounds. my heart is emptied. i cannot continue with these long days. it is too much. the hard days are too hard. there is no respite. the children gnaw at my side. my brain unfolds the ideal and tosses it aside, clinging frantically to the terrible, rushing emotion, that urge to say horrible things, to spit and flail, gnashing teeth and screaming. my patience escapes me, hides away in corners, unseen. i have so much to do and no energy. i rush and move about from thing to thing, but the moment i sit down, i'm lost. i grow tired. i languish. i have no desire to see anyone, yet feel the desperate call from out my chest that reaches for the phone, tries to think of someone to come save me from out myself. there is no one. there is nothing. the laughter of my children lifts me for but a second, and only slightly. the smile crept across my face turns with the source of the joke: half an inch of water spilled 'cross the bathroom floor, the crumbs of dismantled muffins scattered 'cross the sofa and living room, the objects knocked from off the table with loud crashes. their giggles turn into a hateful reminder of disaster and destruction and the million tasks ever before me. and there is no one here. i am all alone. the things i have to fulfill me do not. i am not moved by a need to create. i am not satisfied by my activities. i do not even long for others. a break is too short and offers but brief distraction, such a minor, childish act of avoidance. i cannot even muster tears.