January 23rd means that I am unfit to live, mentally. But then today, like clockwork, snow began to fall at 3PM. I was a little late to Classical Mechanics. Nearly fell asleep, daydreaming about one thing or another, and later I was reminded of how much I do not like to be toyed with. However, I never feel as if I owe a self-explanation to those who play with my convictions, so I simply ignore them. Thus, I create a vicious cycle of harmless teasing and deeply-rooted silence and ambiguity. Even so, the snow continues to play off of the streetlights, meaning the stars continue to be covered, but when frozen crystals find it within themselves to float down the way they do, I don't mind so much. It could be winter forever, and I would hate it, but I'd also find some small way to survive each day. I always do.
Anxiety is not something you can plan, and neither is happiness; but my somewhat questionable mental state has allowed me to indulge in both toxins lately. At times, I am absolutely convinced that there is something horribly wrong with me, but I'm told that crazy people are the last to know. Regardless of my own chemical acrobatics, though, my life's unpredictability continues to leave its trap-doors unlocked and I continue to plunge into whatever environment lies beneath. In my desperate quest for order, I realize that I am dangerously in love with disorder; likewise in my pleading desire for passion, apathy poisons me, weakens me, takes my face in its cold, stinging grip and forces me to look at the world through a lens that only encourages an existence of perpetual suffocation.
I would rather breathe. I've run out of ways to fix it myself, whatever "it" is, specifically, I don't know. Take me back. Take me back. Take. Me. Back.