Do we happen to life or does life happen to us? How do we know what the **** we can trust when our minds can't conclude whether something's enough but tears fall from our face with no thoughts to their name and we feel like we should be starting over again. Another attempt at a life gone one way, without the slightest idea where I think it should be. It's all the same. There's still sun, there's still rain, there's still pain. But no mix of the three can explain this lock in my brain. Am I here? Am I lost? Am I okay with this loss of walls hidden behind far too long to hold on. Are they gone? Or am I? We're all going to die and I want to look back and be pleased with my life. So I'll hold my breath tight and dive into a path with no clue if it's right and just trust that I must have some say in my fight. Being human means confusion and an illusion of time we spend trying to find our own way into the light. And why? Because no one has a clue but we like to think we do and that's what's on all of our minds at the end of the night. After days where we run until our lungs collapse in hope we can find a place where we can see the maps of the world and the life that happens right before our eyes. How simple it looks and how I hate to despise but this world I see right in front of me isn't a scratch on the pain wanting to break free. It screams and I dream I can get it all out but the best I can do is reluctantly numb it or shout "Why the **** is this me?" This is not what I want to be defined by but no matter what I try it arrives and it's bigger than before, not ready to be ignored, so how the **** do I find more? I'm ready to hit the floor running again. I'm not sure if this is the beginning or the end.