whatiwas

sleep deprivation, physical overexertion, emotional unrest, and the lingering worry that my heart, prone to impromptu racing and shrieking, is seriously protesting the lack of care with which i've treated my body has turned me into a complete emotional recluse. if you know me well enough, you'll see that i'm running on minimal connectivity--the showman, Reykjavik, has taken over, spastic and goofy and erratic and so very me--and that every bone in my body screams at me to do anything other than what i'm doing.

i am purely exhausted, months of emotional tumult and horrible nourishment of any variety taking its' toll. i sincerely believe the only reason why i'm not seriously ill is because i remain steadfastly opposed to the consumption of drink, smoke, or drug.

something to hold onto, i guess.

someone come and kiss me and tell me you'll have me, but only now, because that's the only space in time i can truly inhabit.

at the moment.

my name is darryl. i love you all.