Straight I never plan what I write. Never. I feel like all the truth comes out right when it's being said. No plan. Here's my straight forward thoughts.

Time It's definitely been awhile. Awhile for me to do anything. Why? I don't know. What do I know? Where am I going? How long do I have? I don't see myself living a long #life. Don't be scared, I just think that's the truth. Lord, if you're above and beyond, Where am I going? Time deals with #life. We have all the time in the world But, but. I'm swimming in my thoughts. Why aren't I up doing things? WHY. All the time in the world and I choose this. This. Time, I think you might be changing me.

Who Knows People don't cry out for help because they're too independent. They know other people won't care. So if they don't, nobody should. If people don't care then who are they. They might as well be an undiscovered species. If they are undiscovered, then they don't exist. If they don't exist, they're dead. And sometimes that's how it should really be.

Is it bad that I think of death? The "D"word? I don't know, honestly. I don't think of ways to do it. I want to be taken softly. Let me die in peace, happy to be out of the world. But that's intense. Sometimes I wish heavy objects would fall onto me. But is that bad? What's good? Is it good to rather be alive? If you think about it hard enough, it's disrepectful. To dead people. I'm speaking nonsense. I feel bad. Let red spread into my head. I'm no poet. I just got that from a story and I liked it. So, I'll use it. I like to look at people around me. And try to imagine their problems. Some are easy to read Some aren't. Am I hard to read? I feel like it's written all over me For the world to see. Is it? Do I need to wash it off? I'm no author either. But I like to think I speak like one. So let's do a simile about anxiety. I don't think it's a simile though. Anxiety makes things like this: The color blue. It's simple. But anxiety reads it as the ocean. The ocean leads to drowning. But it was just the color blue, not death. Not a simile. Maybe a metaphor. I don't know. I'm no author.