The thing about thinking is it ruins me. It ruins me every time. But it's something I have no escape. It built me, to be overly dramatic and highly sensitive.
It gets me through decisions but it's not always the right one. It gets me so ahead I miss the actuality and the bigger picture. It ruined me.
these thoughts too biased to seek comfort from. I kept at it for no concrete and well founded reasons. I make the wrong judgement and interpretation, because I kept filtering, kept rethinking over and over it becomes muddy. Those that I wanted too much has become an obsession, it gets me every time. It makes me see things that was never there. I imagined them then.
The things that had ruined me has always remained. I made them stay. Because it feels familiar. It's a mistake I keep living with.
The thing about me is. I like to think. Things that has never happened, then I make sure I attach some hope along with it to make it more tragic. I like making myself worry about those that has never happened. Somehow the insanity of it all makes it work, because then I knew It's still me. I guess, I'll never walk away from it. I can be hard to deal with because of my own internal war. I appreciate those who stayed, And I understand those who walked away. There's always a part of me shaded to gray.
I am bound to tire myself out. I know it. And I am bound to tire those that are around me. This I know too.
