More than I can handle

It's been a week and I still can't put words to all of this muck in my head. A trillion scrunched up paper balls that I won't even throw into the waste bin. I spent nights in my brother's bed to get away. That didn't help as much as I thought. The echo made me feel emptier. Rough drafts everywhere. Occupying my eyes and hands with scribbles and doodles that mean everything.