Quiet storms and utmost stupidities.

Intricacies and impossibilities.

There’s no road. There’s no fork. There’s no way back.

There’s no way up and there’s no way down.

There’s no way forward.

There’s no way.

But you sit quietly contemplating what freedom feels like, yet you can’t comprehend what this means because you know you can be freer than birds.

There’s always possibilities, but nothing will ever feel possible if you attach your own shackles. Even you’d hold the key and feel like there’s nothing you can do.

Could it be because you’re scared? Could it be because you’re petrified of what could happen?

Is this just a centripetal thought that won’t shut up?

Would you really be happier on your own?

Something says yes, something says no.

I could be since I’m never actually by myself at any point in time.

Yet the loneliness is what eviscerates anything that lives within you.

I don’t have nothing, but I don’t have anything. I’m stuck in this feeling of evanescent effervescence. A void, of sorts.

Tiring at most, for most, but it wears you down for no reason. Nothing exists, yet you know that something is there.

You wait impatiently for nothing to happen. No way forward. Do not pass GO. But not quite a Yahtzee.

You’re a nobody, and you don’t want to be a somebody. So why the hell are you so unhappy? You don’t want fame or attention, yet you sometimes crave some prestige.

Or maybe what you really want is to be in a place you can feel proud of yourself and where no one else seems to matter.

All this talk of white picketed fences and having children is exhausting. I might want that eventually but it’s like I don’t even think of that as a remote possibility yet.

I don’t even know if I’m capable of loving anyone or anything. Or to be attracted to anything.

I’m just stuck in this fucking void and I don’t know where it’s going.