The more I want to keep things simple, the more they are (seriously) creeping my nerves out. Which part could possibly go wrong?
That may, or can be, done, happen, hypothetically feasible.
It might feel unlikely possible. Nevertheless impossible; yet worthy; then seems logical; then comes, subsequently, the feeling when it feels just right.
Shaped perfectly. Dead-on.
It might feel feasibly unthinkable, may be exist, be true. Improbable. Hopeful. Doomed.
Vision or mission impossible?
What are the chances?
It might appear as if I am slightly crazy, as if I my brain only functions on particular issues.
My brain has to take a break. Those thoughts have to be captivated. Or freed?
Why is everything has to be so ironic?
I am not complaining, I am just writing.
I say what I want to say.
Some things are better off don’t say. Hushed.
I give exactly what I am given.
Not blaming anything, anyone, nor myself.
Learning to cope with the state when one of those moments comes. Those shitty moments.
Don’t know how to react, fight back.
Never get it right.
Where is the privilege?
What is the justification?
Dear universe, please give me your hopes, faith, luck and love.
Need more than just possibilities.
Chuck out those shadows.
Ignore me, and I’ll leave you.