The only way I can do something is by contradicting myself.
Contradicting myself to the point where I don't want to do anything.
At the point where anxiety take over and grips my throat and my mind overdoses on hatred towards the world.
At the tipping point of letting go when the person that's holding me is me.
My mind can be at a blank and then out of nowhere it can feel like it needs to overdose on Adderall because it can't shut up -- when the only thing I'm trying to do is to look for a moment where anxiety doesn't take up every existence of my brain.

With the unrelenting sorrow that
the world feels for me; I wonder if I'm suppose
to be in a trance or should I be electric?
The sounds of silence are too strong.
I wonder if this is reality or just
sorrow.

Out-of-doors opened in at him
all that gathered in his pity.
For there was confusion in the room and
one could not make out of what is the emptiness inside him.
Solutude.

The mountain covered the entire small town in its darkness; when night fall comes you can not see the horizon.
I go towards the mountain where all is at peace and all is still, where the black peak cuts into the clouds.
I would ask you to come, but your mind is caved with the shadows;
that used to be you.

Take me away.

What what we had back then,
Does it mean nothing to you?
Or did you forget?

Am I still alive
Do I still share the expected routine,
that the world has put up for us?
Do I have a
                    pulse?
Is my skin turning
                                gray?

Or am I one of the things that wants you to get up?
Something that makes you want to move?
I need answers