Nobody's more done with me than I am with myself. No one is more tired of constant questioning and indecision than I am. No one is more angry than I am. 

Perhaps you're more afraid than me. Perhaps I don't care enough to be afraid, or perhaps I'm terrified, that's why I feel like crying my eyes out. Perhaps you're more confused than me, because you're not the one rethinking my decisions. I am the one rethinking, overthinking, getting nothing out of it. Almost nothing. Something, and then confusion. Not as bad as before, still not what is intended. Still not what I intended. Why?

No one is more angry than I am. No one is more done making last minute choices that prove themselves to be so last minute everyday. So uncertain and so on the verge of yes and no they, themselves, remind me everyday of how temporary they are. 

I am tired. I am done. I am afraid. I want anything and everything, and I want nothing. I have no spark, only burning fires. I have no goal, only passions. I have no courage, I only jump off cliffs because it's the only way life makes any sense. 

I want to be understood. I want to feel like I make any fucking sense. I want to tune my intuition with my soul and heart and head. I want my head to think straight. I want the impossible, the unreachable. I hate having to fit inside your narrow streets and dead ends. I ain't a fucking narrow person, I'm expanding, like the Universe, or perhaps I have no size at all.

I hate this. I'd say I hate me but I can't even hate me. Not for this in particular. I can only hate it. 

I don't know what to do, I never knew, please don't say that to me. Please don't tel me what I already know, please don't feed my overthinking and my fear. Too late. You've done it. Here we go again.