i feel like there’s something living, breathing, scrambling inside my chest, suffocated and terrified and desperate, and beyond any hope of escape.

now i know what you’re all thinking: what an awful clich�, jesus, if i’m gonna be melodramatic i could at least make an effort to incorporate some sort of originality. but let me tell you, guys, i’m a little past shooting for original, right now i’m just going for any kind of accurate description.

this thing inside me is everything. it is my panic, my depression, my passion, my will to achieve. it’s my inability to do so, to even express myself in any kind of adequate or satisfactory manner, or draw up any remotely useful amount of will-power. it’s my fear of death, and life, and loss. it is huge, and hugely overpowering.