I've been saying that a lot recently, not sure how to stop, Anyway. I'm okay Just a little misplaced Starting to think its really a Personal Problem Who the hell am I, anymore, Anyway? I'm back home and being sober For a while Trying my best to figure myself out Before it's too late and that's all I have left to do. These thoughts arent shocking and aren't new when I cry in the middle of the night in the middle of my new bathroom These thoughts are piled up like my ***** laundry that drives you Away. Like you, I miss who I was But how can I give up again, anyway? How much letting go can I do In my Youth before all of who I am to the world is lost to painful, past potentials? I am afraid what's happening was always inevitable, anyway. Because between the situational and unconditional I don't know where we lie so now I lie to myself To feel a whisper of the warmth to thaw this unrest of loneliness and melt into my purpose, defined. Anyway;