Twisted Nerves

I thought I knew who I was when I fell asleep. I must have changed multiple times until then. Then I woke up, and now I don't know who I am.

I would try to explain to you how it feels, but I can't. It's not that I'm at a loss of words. I just don't know where or how to start. Or where it ends.

Maybe I'm just in no position to be steering any ships.

If I stand still, I'll feel the crumbles fall to my feet. Make sure I'm falling apart, and it's not just in my head.

And it's so cold, that the wind just cuts through skin, like a blade. It's so hard to tell if there are any clouds or not, I'm missing all details with my gaze being so out of focus.

"A movie so crass, and awkwardly cast, even I can be the star."

I died a long, long time ago.

Oh no, not me, I never lost control.

You're face to face, with

The man who the world sold.

This is perhaps just an episode.

This is perhaps just a phase.

Perhaps, it's just a rut. That I'll walk out soon, and everything will be fine.

Maybe I won't ever, and things will just continue to come crashing down, like they always do.

Fall apart. Break into pieces. Crumble.

But where does it end, if it ever does? If it ever will.

It can't be my fault. I've been designed to be this way. If our experiences shape us, I've only had very fucked up experiences. I'd be willing to blame God for it, but what's the point?

Fearless leader.

Just a nice guy.

Nice on the deep down inside.

So deep down inside, there's a doubt any such thing even exists.

So I press my palms down hard against my forehead, hoping for the anxiety to stop. The will to self destruct to go away. The want to stop living to vanish.

The storm might not pass until my twisted nerves untangle.