E 8: Squeezed

My head is squeezed. Words are spurting out and they don't look good; they're like blood in bad spurting fashion.
I am pushed.
There isn't enough time for sleep. The earth feels so soft. My feet can't feel the ground. My head is floating. Everybody seems so suspicious; my body is so vulnerable.
Heavy air sits on my eyelids, invisible chains pull my hands down. My body seeks my bed.
I am pushed.
My mind is a broken computer. It is required to talk but words don't seem to make sense.
Because I push myself.
Fennec foxes are cute. They have big ears that bring heat out of their bodies.
Why do journalists do things like.. I don't know.. I'm too par away. Whoever said that I'm ... 
I push myself.
The earth.
Fault line. The moon will be 14 percent bigger next week.
I want to eat. They know.. This is not worth reading.
Fuck.