I always feel a little insecure when I can't seem to write like those people with iron words and solid sentences. Who can "feel" what they write and can become their emotions. They become their emotions. I can't feel crap when I write and maybe that the problem. I cut myself off from everything and words seem to get stuck somewhere between wherever I think of them and my fingertips.My fingertips seem to disconnect sometimes and do the talking. Dirty, dirty fingertips say some nasty things to people who don't deserve it. But I can't help it. Maybe deep down everyone deserves nasty words thrown at them. Just for a wake up call. My fingertip[s are a completely different person, with each fingertip being something different. One can touch, while another can stab you in the back. It's all a cycle of time and thought. Maybe that's called impulses. In Florida, feeling and impulses are as illegal as speaking your mind. If only that annoying kid could keep his comment to himself. By this time, everyone probably stopped reading this blog because it's not poetically inclined or has some subdued meaning for the lonely person to decipher. This will be straight-forward (for the most part) and honest. You can read it and learn about my brain and how it can't function without my usual routine of whining and complaining.