forget about your house of cards.

funny, i've tried to write a few other times this week, and nothing would come from my fingers. it seems as though i'm only capable of writing on nights such as these, where i feel temporarily lost. maybe it's solely because it's a holiday that we failed to acknowledge, although halloween never was held in such high regards to me either way. the holiday season has always held disappointments, and i'm not sure how much more disappointments i could manage.

i'm in such a strange head space at times, mostly at times when i've been left alone. i tried to write when i felt happy this week, but it didn't feel right. how backwards am i; i choose to write only when i'm unhappy. what unfair memories i'm making for myself by digging myself into a hole that will allow me to look back at myself 5 years from now to rediscover who i was, only to find baggage. and speaking of baggage, have i mentioned that i've held everyone elses baggage and cannot manage to acknowledge my own? since when do your burdens become my baggage? it's terribly heavy and none of my belongings are in it.