I'm in an odd place today

I'm in one of those weird, creative, distant moods today.
As for the whole condom deal, I texted him. He texted me back 2 texts with at least 5 cumulative "sorry"s and then tried to call me but I was at work. I really don't think he knew. All the lights were off. But either way, I'm on the pill so everything should be ok.
I just can't get over how I feel today. Perhaps its reading The Bell Jar that's got me thinking myself into knots. Whenever I feel this way, I start to freehand write and I do it for about 10 minutes nonstop. No editing, no going back, and no reading it through until I'm done. I just did it and what I wrote scares me a little and part of me knows I'm prementrual and overreacting, but another part knows that parts of it are true.
This is what I wrote:

There is a time when endings come trotting by halfheartedly, blowing smoke in your face

And you lace up your shoes and shrug your shoulders because shoes don’t make any sense at all in summer and now you’re lacing them up because there could be snow on the ground in a week
And your face will be all red from the cold wind that cuts at your cheekbones, carved with an ever so slight ounce of extra skin that when you smile, your face has room
And you wish you could dance through the rain but you’re too high and it’s cold and you’re going nowhere
Because every road leads to another dead end, blowing smoke in your face
The whisper of your arms as they slide to your sides is the only sound you’ll hear with the throbbing ecstasy of people surrounding you, colliding with one another, and departing, forever untouchable.
They are invincible and you are invisible and a sigh escapes your lips and leaves your body limp, ready for the next fuck where you’ll lay and moan because you enjoy feeling wanted
You reflect by staring into pictures and grow sad because they are only pictures and then angry because they are only memories and you would rip them all up if you could feel, if only for a moment, that trickle of hope that rests itself on your breasts before you took a nap together
Hugging yourself as your try to save the memories from trickling away, trying to scoop them back in as you clench your eyelids, they leak out and through that red blur of veins that’s illuminated from the light and with time the memories blur and the only occupant residing in your memory is the feelings that you remember but can no longer feel.
Strangers graze your shoulders and you succumb to the absentminded way your body floats down the street with your boots dragging behind you
And you wish they were here even without words, and you could exchange glances and tell stories of memories of feelings with your eyes as tears spring and leave stains on your cheeks that have been damp for too long
And if someone would just reach and wipe the cheeks clean, then perhaps the cutting wind wouldn’t feel so harsh and winter wouldn’t be as bad
But as the first snowflake falls, you recall that feeling as if you were the mist that escapes the sidewalks as the cold meets warm.
Cold meeting warm is all you are; a mix of odd perplexities and an over contrasted figure standing in the doorway of a party where you don’t belong
And you wonder if you’ll ever belong again or if you’ll ever breathe freely again
Or if you’ll always have smoke being blown in your face.

Perhaps I'm just doomed to an eternity of craziness inside my head.
 
I'll catch up on blogs now :)
xoxo