Note to self:

I don't care.
Don't care how I breathe.
Don't care how I see.
Because everything is working like clockwork.
Everyday I tick and I sleep.
I wake up, I breathe, I walk, like everyone else.
And like everyone else I lay down for slumber.
For the next morning I wake again.

But I don't want to breathe.
I don't care to see, or tick in rythm without soul or reason.
I don't care to wake like a zombie, live like the dead.
Because that's how I feel: I feel dead.
Even though I live.
I live a circle, a square.
A geometric shape, without pointless curves; robot-like.
I don't care for that.

I want more.
I want to laugh and mean it.
I want my heart to beat out of order, the clock to speed up and to slow down.
I want to breathe in tar, and almost die.
I want to live this life alive.
I want to kiss.
I want to be naked, whatever.
I want to cry, want my blood to spill, maybe a little.
I want arms around me.
But I want to be free.
Be homeless, lost but with love.
Scream from pleasure.
Suffocate from air.
And I really really just don't care.
About the clock or about breath.
I don't care about life.
I just care about alive.

That's all I want to say to myself.