Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little?

If I rest, if I think inward, I go mad.

I must be lean & write & make worlds beside this to live in.

I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.

I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.

I suppose I'll always be over-vulnerable, slightly paranoid.

I suppose if I gave myself the chance I could be an alcoholic.