There is so much inside me bursting to get out

There is so much inside me bursting to get out. 

I've been not feeling well, I've been sick, I've been lying and lied to... don't know what to do, everything seems like this huge endless lie... but it isn't... or is it?... I've always considered myself a great liar... who in turn would make me also a great actor or, better yet, a great story teller.

Perhaps that’s why my life feels like a lie, I have this image of myself that is far from being any real sense... am I novelist' am I a writer?... it’s been months since I wrote anything for my novel.... there hasn't been a day I don't think about it, I think about it constantly, endlessly every detail, the whole plot, sometimes I think so much about it overwhelms me.

There is this contest... I could try to do something... however I know I won’t make it. I wake up with the thought that I have to straighten my hair if I want to feel good today... how empty is that? 

Then I spend the next 30 minutes looking at the guy in the mirror, who depending on the day, at random, is the most disgusting being on the planet or maybe not, so I stop, my hair half done, I look myself in the eyes and then I see it... the future, my future, I know how things will go, I know how everything will pan out, not in detail, but the overall plot.

I just keep thinking... Someone living my life should be happy…

(5 days late)