I cant map out my feelings.
I just cant seem to, for the life of me or the relationships i struggle to keep, figure out life. My motto is to keep thinking, and i cant help but short-circuit at the crucial moments. Has thinking becoming a way to carve my road to, to put it harshly, destruction? I hope not.
Buut of course when my instincts take over i turn acidic in my stomach and hurt people some more. Is this the evil that i have been avoiding so i keep analysing every step i take?
Everything is becoming so damned confusing, and i bet a week from now i will have forgotten why i was sad and wrote this. I am unwell now, that is the bottomline.
I just dont want to see the day when voices in my head shall start to control me. I have handled mental stress but real life is all new to me. Give me a book.
And no one wants to listen to me. Right, these things in my head are petty. But a precaution is never harmful.
I need a break.
But i dont want to leave things temporarily behind, thinking they might get worse without my watch. But i should convince myself to relinquish care for a bit: things heal on their own, and they will, even without my watch. Hopefully in my absence problems would be stagnant at best -cant be too trusting, i guess. Then in my retreat my mind will wander off to find peace. Cliche, i used to think; but now it feels like a really hopeful solution. That's it: a retreat.
Let the foolish remain foolish, when they cant be helped. If things go haywire i wont be watching. Il be ready when i get back, to throw things into the trash, and try to pick up where i abruptly left.
That is it: a break.