Life

Life. The walls you live inside, they feel safe and at the same time still confining, suffocating. The floor boards and their familiar creaks, the ones that give you away. Your habits, repeated, again, and again. The worries, the overwhelming desire to become something other than yourself, that self that somehow clings to the hope and prospects you are fully capable if achieving. The desire is to lose yourself in inadiquity, to be the ghost. That everlasting whimsical of wandering, not wondering... But WANDERING. For certain you are lost without those who love and support you. What to do with the ever present thought in your somehow smart analytic and unique mind. How can such a mind be this inadequate at a life that many layman seem to master.