Loose screws.

It hurts.
But I don't want to take a Panadol.
And I don't want to talk.
I've said enough, and all the talk in the world wouldn't right me anyway.
I think a couple of springs have snapped in my head, and a screw or two fell loose too.
I can't find the other screw. I think it's a Panadol, but I can't afford to take medication now. There's still much to do.
Much I don't want to do.
I think I'll just staple Justin Leong to a sheet of paper and pass it to Pn. Zurina.
I would give up trying to lead worship anymore, but I've never given up leading worship, no matter how inclined towards doing so I may be, and I never will.
No circumstances big enough could make me. Except maybe my death. But that's a pathetic excuse.
My heart and head are heavy now, but they are not enough to make me give up.
It's a long cold war.
Even if I'm dying, I'm not yet dead.
I am so definitely not here at the right time. I'm sorry. I know I'm such a downward force.