There are so many kinds of things in this world; Things which make you flash your pearlies. Things which bring about that spring in your step. Things which make you jump, trampoline-style. Things which piss you off. Things about which you rant. Things about which you rave.
At times though, there are certain things which leave you buzzing inside. Like some deranged cicada. Your mind’s a whorl, a friggin maelstrom. You have so much to say, but you never get started. Not even with the first syllable. You don’t start, for you don’t bloody know whether you have it in you, to be able to stop. And being the wuss you are, you take the easy way out. You blank ’em out. For these are things, where you’re left with nothing.