I sit at the cold metal bench. Thinking of what i should do. Something that can benefit me and others. I ran out of ideas. I am blank. The pressure is killing me. The silence i could not keep up anymore. Am i fed up? I don’t know. Trying to be careful of what i should say. For it might lead to something I’m not expecting. It felt heavy. Like carrying tons of madness on my shoulder. I want to lift them all up and throw them in a huge garbage bin. Well somehow this is helping. I feel the nicotine helping me get through this. Maybe a little more and i will feel light again. This was a nice idea, getting out.
As i read what i have written, I’ve noticed that the main point is unclear. ‘Cause my mind is.