don't give me faces,give me words.

I take it back, I do. Hollow. Empty. I am insecure of what I want to do, am I doing this right? He always tells me to stop being insecure, but I just don't know if this is right for me. I am not comfortable enough with my writing. I write because I enjoy writing, because it fulls me, but if it does how can I feel dead. How can I sense it so wrong? Ive felt uneasy on trying to find the right words for this. I have anxciety for words. I am going berserk with words, sentences, paragraphs, stories. I want something unused, but I wish it wasn't unfinished.