I look, yet I'm blind,

I hear, but I'm deafened.

The radio static in my head is ever so lasting, unfailing.

I can rely on my instability,
my inquisitiveness turned to doubt.

I'm in love, but I can't love.
Have I ever learned to love?

I've always been loved, adored.
When did love become uncomfortable?

I'm the happiest I could've been,
but I'm blind to everything.

My strength is fragile,
I can't live like this.

I can't live when it's me who turns every drop of golden sunshine,
into tar.

Why can't I be happy?
Where are my screws loose?

Have I always been like this?
It can't be love that brought this out.

Something so pure, could not bring this out.

What is it like?
To not lead life with fear, paranoia and panic.

What is it like?
To wake up without sweat, a pounding heart, with a crowded head.

What is it like?
To love another, and oneself at the same time.

What is it like?
To not be me, to not live in constant torment.