Train fumes.

Significant emotion backtracked to nonexistence and all I'm left with is a storm of nothing relevant. Utter frustration takes over as I try to make sense of something that was nonsensical to begin with. I hardly know how I feel about me, let alone myself in relation to someone else. This is the beginning of something possibly completely new, but definitely progressive. I may relapse, and I think I have, but Ill always have me and my pen. I'm confused now in several places and I have no idea what or who to call home. I guess home is something you'll recognize when it comes along, so it might be safe to say my home is found, but out of reach and too far.

One of the hardest and most fucked-up things of concepts is the delusion that you're okay, which leads into problems conjured out of thin air, which leads to the realization that the nonexistent problems held a lot of truth and their basis being nothing becomes untrue. This is what happened to me and now I'm comfortably troubled and out of balance enough to feel. Flatlining is boring and boredom does worse damage to me than cigarettes. If life were all lovely and careless, we'd kill ourselves. We need balance and feeling like shit is a part of it. Give me rain and sunshine and I'll stay balancing on the border between sane and insane.