I am broken and lost. I am anxiety ridden and hurt beyond my own comprehension. Perhaps because I speak none of the wrongs against me. It’s just my way. I used to believe love was the driving force of the universe…. But it’s as if I was asking for the disasters to ensue like a small, soft little girl to take on a world bent on remaining miserably selfish and mean…… yet it could be that i’m the selfish one meanly accusing the innocent of having wronged me. The throws of my mind have me depressedly surrendering to the conclusion that maybe I embody all of insanity. I wasn’t always this gnarled or chewed up; I usually cope enough to be able to control myself.Â I want out very badly.Â I find myself hanging a life’s worth if hope on simple but easily ruinable joys like inventing and preparing drinks for the benefit cafe I run…..and foolishly and uncontrollably bawling when ruined. I find myself foolishly vulnerable to the natural throws of life on account of the throws of my mind. To the world outside me, the inversion of the core of my idiosyncracies goes unnoticed, but the disparity between who I was and who I have fallen as displays itself in tremors of fear, pain, and neurotic desires (and sometimes engagements) of an end—the end, usually by means of pills and beating my head. Yet, in memory of life’s beauty and warm, I hope that I can find my way with all of you towards a different kind of end. It’s said that beyond the darkest hour is the rising sun. So, shall we? If you’ll hold my hand, I’ll stay here with you.