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Don't cry. I tell myself t focus on that. Feel th anxiety fortify in my disintegrating heart, I wanna be some place else. I don't know where, but I just don't wanna be here. I count each breath I take, as if my life depended on it. It does. Counting down each time, as if an end would occur. But it wouldn't. When you reach 1, you just go all rh way back t th start. At th bottomland of an alluvial land, th world as it is. You could never get t th brim of water for your sadness will always be less dense. Lacking in density that you can't even see why you feel this way. Th only time I can sit in my room, in complete darkness and just stare blankly at 4 walls that tardily but lethally seeps through my stoma, thousands of 'em. You can't save something that has died within and if it's you, then you can't save yourself. I need all th answers that I can't snaffle. 'If you can't fight them, join 'em. Perhaps that was th answer I was looking for all along. A mass spreaded motherfuckin' cliche phrase, but sometimes we don't see th things that are right in front of our view. It would be wrong t say I haven't got control over th things I do. But somehow, I can't stop pushing people away. People I need. Like an auto repellent I've hoarded over th years but of no good use whatsoever. And I don't even know how t end this, end my thoughts, end my words. If I can't seem t find th end, it probably isn't. But what else is there?