Tststrn Grl

every now and then, i lose it. i fall apart. i take myself apart. tare myself into tiny little pieces. deconstruct myself, so i don't forget what i am (made of). so i don't forget i am nothing. made of (hot) air, smokes and mirrors. littles pieces of nothingness, that don't even go with each other. hence the duality. hence the indecision. hence the falling apart. and the taking apart. and the rebuilding. again and again. until it 
all makes sense. until i make sense again.

trading fever for pneumonia. will work for now.

I just want a place for my head. And mind.
A place where it all makes sense.
A place where I am not alone in my mind. Where you are.
But that's like sentencing myself to death. By crucifixion.
I am you, whether I like it or not. Ignore it, but it won't go away.
I sometimes wish I made sense. Or that at least other people would not make sense, in the same way as me.

I should probably label this 'utopia'.