my life was ruined at 11:59 again

This is probably gonna be the only emotional blog I’ll ever write, and its because I think its worth writing or maybe its because I’m just angry, to be honest I’m not just angry at me I’m angry at everyone, but I’m also angry at no one and that’s next to insanity so this is suppose to be me venting my feelings so that I don’t have to do anything that I will regret doing, or say the wrong things to the wrong people or make something that can be worse, worse . So I’m gonna just say it here where I’m free to express my feelings and to walk the thin line of fantasy and reality, I guess most lately I have been wanting to escape reality, because I think reality is too much to bare or maybe its too much for me to bare, maybe it is that I’m scared of it, scared of not being accomplished scared of not reaching goals because in this reality reaching your goals is the exception, not the rule and I’m afraid I’m already stuck in the rule forever endowed to see failure around every corner and people may say “oh nothing you’re feeling hasn’t been felt before” but they’re wrong everyone is unique and everyone feels things differently, we handle things differently we all see things differently we aren’t in a vacuum and life isn’t always one shape or another.
So I’m writing this blog not because I’m in the mood to write but because I need to pour out my feelings and this is the best canvas I could find, the only canvas that was limitless that wouldn’t need me to cut too deep to get out the paint I need, so this is my canvas and this post is my painting a painting that will tell my tale of stupid anger that won’t get me anywhere but that I can’t help feeling because its a real anger one that’s deep within my mind, the one that keeps me just off the brim of insanity the one that makes me keep in mind the fact that this a reality that I’m not in a mad dream, that I am not going to wake up from, a dream that has me stretched to my ends, one that makes me sick to the core… Some people think I have it lucky because I don’t explain the intricacies of my life with them mainly because I don’t want to, but mostly because I don’t trust them, they aren’t there for me they’re there for themselves, they are just my own self desire to accept this as a reality and to retain my sanity, to feel the thirst of a million deserts but a thirst for something you don’t know, that you can’t explain, isn’t that insanity in itself?
My mind reels at its own convulsions, which are dry and soulless, into the darkness my mind has plunged forever lost to the light of this reality from the next.

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