My thoughts are scattered, heart is still shattered from the first time. Who am I to dump all of my problems on others, to spread my disease of turmoil. Is that what you meant to say? I'm in love with the human way and how we decay day after day until death is just an aftereffect that's as welcome as the rest, I need rest and all I have left is this wasted breath. feelings, or the perception of what I feel, I cant share the part of me I feel is real. for my real feelings are fake feelings feeling jealous that I felt and was I melting? were my words controlling my own hell? and if I can break out, then even I wont tell. I'm bleeding, we're dying. send help.