My Own Prison

I thought... the rate of failure lies somewhere between 70 and 90%. Success seems a small, small hope here. But my gut tells me to do it anyway. My gut tells me that the Joy I will feel in my one single action I want to take, outweighs beyond any logical thought, the consequences of the failure.
It's so hard to call it failure, too. Because, right now, there are more desirable outcomes and less desirable outcomes. But there is not one specific outcome I want.
Sure, I have worries about the situations progress. the situation. the... way the eyes see and the head sees and the thoughts see.
I feel neutrality now.

And there are two extremes.

And where will my actions bring me?

Tomorrow is too long for any single soul to get better. So I'll string them all up from the trees myself. Dead weight on strong branches. I can see all the limbs snapping now. The limbs of the tree drops the bodies and the limbs meet the ground.

It's just easier to follow the rules.
It's so much easier to fit into a mold and stand in line and build a structure and do the same thing every day.
It's so easy.
Maybe I'll never have to make a choice again.
How can anything go wrong?

I think tomorrow I'm going to hang myself up in the trees with the others. There's no saving me. Because I'm not like the rest of the world. I don't follow a structure. I don't want to do the same thing over and over every day, for the rest of my life.

I feel as if my brain is becoming something I would rather see in a museum than in use. Something's going over my head. I wish I could grasp it, but I'm beginning to think it's going to be forever out of reach.
I realize the world should feel real, but it feels really strange. I don't trust any of it. I'm too paranoid to pretend. So if I act crazy, somehow I think that it will cancel out any insanity that I actually may have. Nobody will ever know. I won't let them. Anybody can read this and think of ranting. I can read it and think about when I used to not distrust everything around me. Remember 'seeing is believing' ...?  I remember the saying, but I don't remember what it feels like to believe that. I see the tree in the corner. I see the couch I'm on. And I can even touch all of these things.
But I have a pretty god damn good feeling that none of this is as real as the things in my head.
And if everything in my head is god damned real...
well I probably should have started worrying a long, long time ago.

The clouds are rolling in.  I brushed the earth off of my skin.
So where have my thoughts wandered? Where shall I expect my mind to head toward next?

Things are too unreal. Or real. I can't tell the two apart anymore. Do I want to?
But now I'm really working hard, on figuring out WHY I feel strongly about some things and not about others. I'm trying to figure out WHY I want things the way that I do.
And I'm going to figure out Why I'm not doing more to make something happen.
And I'm going to change that, too.