I hope for second chances in life, not those in which I don’t deem myself worthy of at least. I mean, I want another chance to speak these words to an open canvas of people and watch the expressions that fill their faces as I spill my guts on their shoes and reveal a little more about myself than they would infer someone my age had went through. I long for that gaze. It is filled with sorrow and regret and love and peace all in the same moment and I think that’s the only time I have experienced euphoria. I believe in life there always lies a second chance at something, or someone. But the second I chance that second of chance I become deranged and paranoid and I succumb to the pressures my anxiety puts me under and wonder when she will stop being such a psychotic ***** and give me a chance to live my life again. I haven’t been the same since the Effexor filled my veins and I’ve been scratching at my surface ever since, looking for a chance to find myself again.