I have problems with eating, sleeping, living
Existing.
I’m confused as to why people stick around
My head is ******
Perhaps inserted off balance in my skull
Living a life of its own,
That’s not mine.

I’m afraid to go to the doctor
Because I know he will finally say
There is something terribly wrong with you
And a match will light,
A catastrophe will begin,
And I’ve never been able to handle catastrophes.

And I will cry
But this is the only way
To get this “thing” out of myself
Because then the illness will be the problem
Not me.
And my reason for in-existence will be its fault
And I will sail away on an empty boat
With the tragedy out of my hands

And I’m so afraid of life
And I’m afraid of existence, in-existence
And I’m afraid to be gone from this world
The only place I know
But then again, sometimes it doesn’t feel like home.