I feel as if I am in a bubble that holds my mind and spirit outwardly from my body. Looking within I see the emotions churn and broil. Roasting away under the heat aggression of anger and rage, the emotions slowly dry, crumbling to the dust of regret and wasted effort. Inward, searching the crevices’ of my emotional core for an ounce of happiness, a pinch of joy, a smidge of patience, and or, at the least empathy for myself. Studying my own mind and heart I engage with the emotions as Sherlock Holmes tackled his cases. Logical and steadfast I prioritize, bulletize, and profane my own self for causing such turmoil within the boundaries of my being.

It takes a lot for me to feel lost, yet here I am. I see happiness, as if I could touch it. Though its feathery feelers always glide away from me. As if they were octopus arms being maneuvered by an intelligence greater than mine. Each day, feeling led outward into the land of unreality I don’t fear myself anymore. Eagerly calling upon the experiences. Life, to feel it all. The hurts, pain, logical emotions, satire affairs, mixed with the lightest touches of meaning. Yet, I still find myself lost amongst the trees in dire attempt to isolate in place. For I don’t think I can navigate the forest of despair that has taken hold of my mind.