Im a creep

Everyday I come online, and everyday I think I'll write some of the things running in my mind. But it never happens. It happens sometimes when you lose words. But when words are your only friends, the only way you express, and they mute you out; that's when you experience the hell. you want to say so much, but you don't know where the words are.

The past few months have passed me by, and I have witnessed my life like I've been watching a very dull play. A play with no sound, no colors, no excitement/anticipation.
Where words were an accepted, for granted reality; now they are nowhere and all i want is for them to come back to me.
without them, My thoughts mean nothing, my voice is mute. Music has lost its soul, poetry and literature are like the loo winds, something that I feel burning my face but I can't quite figure out how to deal with it.

Its a wonder how the absence of something leaves you so handicapped, so moody. Words, that's all they are. Its not supposed to be such a big deal. But they have taken my rhythm, my peace. My mojo, if you will.
I am at a loss. Radiohead explained it so well.

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice when I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell I'm doing here?
I don't belong here