The rain has been coming down for days,
And I feel safe.
I am becoming my own, and beginning to accept the unknown that captivates my simple mind.
I over analyze and drive myself insane, but I have some deep routed feeling that through my hardships,
I will be okay.
As if this purge was some sort of release of fear,
Because a burden has been relseased off my crooked shoulders.
I feel genuine happiness,  knowing you care.
That's all I ever wanted, I guess

The sky is pastel, and makes me feel happy,
Although my day is turning more and more upside down as the day progresses.
I am so unaware of who I am and what contains me,
Yet I am so sure that I am who I am supposed to be.
Adolescence is a dumb thing, because it causes me to lose sight of things I was often so sure of.
I hold my future in an unsure hand, trembling as I begin to feel my fingers wrap around it,
Not yet obtaining it, but most definitely acknowledging it's existence.
I cannot see it, for I am standing in the road with a blindfold on,
Looking like a complete and udder idiot, holding out a shaking hand as I struggle to grasp onto some undefined object that controls my every thought.
I feel embarrassed, and I feel dumb,
But people do not notice me.
They are doing the same as me.
Everyone is standing out on this road, with a blindfold on, as they attempt to grasp onto this foreign object that shapes their every motive.
Some people grasp this object fully, and accept it for whatever texture it obtains.
Others, like me, are failing to fully wrap their fingers around this object.
I am blind, you see, and I can't tell if this object, my future, is large, or so small that I can barely see it.
I cannot tell if there is a car speeding up behind me, rushing through stop signs and yields and red lights,
I am blind.
I can't tell if this car will decide to hit me or not.
I cannot tell if this object will control me for the rest of my life.
I cannot tell if someday I will overcome my fear of the object, and drop it on the floor like I should.
But for now, I stand here, holding it out in front of me, letting it control my every move like I always have.
And I sit here and I realize why it is that I write about myself more than I write about anyone else.

There is something wrong with my brain.
I constantly tell myself to do the right thing,
But my ideas are irrational and my words are not words;
They are pictures carved out from memories my mind has somehow stolen.
There are spiders, and creatures, and storms crashing through my mind,
And there is no moon in my head that can control this tide.
So I sit here and watch myself rot and go insane,
As I constantly wonder what's wrong with my brain.

I want to live my life in every perspective.
I want to feel the emotions and the pain of every single person.
I want to enjoy the world through my eyes shining through the light of another person.
I want to love this life unconditionally.
I want to see the world.
I want to feel it all.
I want to feel at all.
I want to feel.

There is a haunting contentment with the idea that Death will greet us someday.

The unbreakable have limits of wearing and tearing,
As does my heart.
At times I wonder about it's durability, and question if my idea of it is wrong.
For I used to think it was as fragile as fine china, gathering dust in an antique fair somewhere in the South.
But now I realize it is as cold and dense as the winter ground.
This small heart of mine has seen the rain, it has seen the darker days.
It has been swallowed and chewed, and tasted and tortured, time after time after time.
But the times it is appreciated brings it to its fullest potential.
I believe now that it is its happiest.

I look at the world from above and wonder why I am no longer scared.
Is it perhaps because I have found my meaning, or is it because my heart has learned to love?

And I feel it now,
The rushing guilt, the sickening doubt,
The feelings I never wished to feel again.
And words are sprouting, growing, and shouting, from their captivity inside my head.
I'm not sure what I'm trying to say, I'm not sure where I'm going,
I know that surely I am growing,
I know that rhyming is nothing
But a pattern.

So if everyday was a challenge,
And every breath was a risk,
Why does humanity continue to live?
As these thoughts absorb you, and these questions envelope you,
Into some foreign core.
I will continue to nourish some unknown object,
The unknowing of what is to come.

And if I were to personify every action and every word,
Would I drive myself insane?
Because bringing feelings and emotions into your eyes is surely something I cannot seem to obtain.

Do you notice the drifting?
Do you recognize the time?
Do you often wonder about the first time you saw me?
Because I think about you often, and the small things.
Like the feeling you get when you see the rain.

There are millions to billions of emotions associated with every word of this sentence.
Am I the one to judge how you feel,
When I can't even uncover the meaning behind my words?