some productive train of thought has brought me to this place of mental clarity. i’ve realized its not quite conscience, but an equal part of my reality. something surreal and full of emotions i’m not quite certain i can feel. restless as i may be i’m here and, unfortunately, i am me.
i think i still need you to believe in me. i think i’m stuck on an escalator that keeps going down, and i can’t get off. maybe this is all teaching me to be stronger, but i only feel weaker. writing letters that i’ll never send, and painting pictures in my mind that will never come true. i’m living in my head, and i can’t move forward in this world knowing that you’ve finally given up on me. why do i allow you do this to me?
