Thoughts- both profound and vacuous- bubble forth, translucent and airy, never forming a definitive statement. And thus, my thoughts and myself drift along, never to solidify, forever abstract. Drifting in slew of incoherence.
I am vital yet morbid. Like inhale and exhale. I dream about immortality one moment, and contemplate suicide the next. Yes, like inhale and exhale. Or is it exhale and inhale? Morbid yet vital?
I am impacted too much by what I read. Yes I tend to withdraw. I tend to enter into a different world. One less mundane. One where there is vitality. One that is studded with brillance, where each singular moment possesses a unique, transcendental beauty. Translucent and airy.
All I want is for you to just fight me and break through to me and hold me down and scream your life into my face. I shall refrain from writing any more today.