Restless
You feel full. You're stuffed full of something. There's no way to make yourself to feel better. Other than writing it all out of course. And that's the problem. You don't know how to. You want to write furiously. Like you're running out of time. Pen flying over the paper. Fingers dancing over the keyboard. Yet you can't. You are restless. Dancing to random music, even though you're not a dancer. Never enjoyed moving that much, to be honest. But you are. Moving. Constantly. Even when you are sitting. Tapping your feet. Snapping your fingers. Even your friends have started to notice. You know how to cure yourself though. You do. You knew before you noticed the symptoms. Writing. Yet you can't. It's horrible. It's annoying. You feel like there's a very fine thread holding you back from snapping and unleashing violence upon everything around you. So you write. This shitty thing. You don't even know what it is. You don't want to. You just want to write. Something. To get rid of this ridiculous feeling. The racing in your head. This unbelievable crowding in your head. The indescribable urge to go do something. Anything. This.
