Boomerang

There comes a point in my life, rarely, but it feels so often

Where I find my sanity to be the only balance between happiness and chaos

But that very sanity I watch fade a little everyday

It is true what they say - ‘you are what you love’

And I love to help everyone except myself

And I wonder how long I have before I’m unable to keep still

And I wonder about the various outcomes when that time does occur

Would I regret my choices in hindsight?

Would I regret myself?

I’ve always thought there is an advantage to every disadvantage (and vice-versa)

But what if this time I’m too far gone?

Would redemption even be possible?

You seek help

But I am alone

You are not alone

But I am

It is dangerously unnerving to fear your own mind,

Let alone allow people to pretend they care or that they understand or both 

As selfish as it may be, it is mine to understand; it is mine to accept

Henceforth, I am utterly and desperately alone

And my anxiety feeds off of that desperation

A struggle between wanting to irritate a few friendly ears and needing to take care of it on my own

When I watch the tide rise intensely, would I seek opportunity and set sail?

Or would I, assuming the countless possibilities of failure, choose to stand still?

I’m still unsure which is more foolish

To give up trying has no point in trying at all,

But what is the point in setting off when the wind seems to suffocate more than guide your sail

At the end of the day, anyone has the power to turn into anything,

Take that in as you may

Even the finest of minds may fall victim to a haunting psychopathy;

Even the warmest of souls may lose their colour in the process of constant empathy.