I know all the time I have should be occupied and productive, instead filling my head with so much thoughts that leave me unsure about myself. So much needs to be done and building that assurance I once had but one after another I lose interest in those exact things that kept me sane and intact with reality. The swift wind cutting against my face as I bike down streets—that feeling kept me influenced and had pure happiness. Words being twisted and tied together with others that leave me in a pool of confused mess; all I do is laugh with a smirk and stare into the space I create in which I created with my envisionment.

Then I wonder about those that I use to share conversations with and memories; far gone from my or their own reach to remember what I see. 

It’s that bad where I forget what it feels like to have fresh air flow through my lungs and stare at the sun. Maybe I forgot how to live, or my mind isn’t in the right place to feel at least content.