There’s so much I want to say.
I hate talking. The words come out rushed. Wrong.
I should write. Sort my thoughts and pen ’em.
I’m trying for sanity. It’s tougher than I expected.
I sometimes feel. Like I’m programmed to self-destruct.
I’m trying for sanity. I’m trying for an absence of bipolar.
There are things I want to say. I forget them now.