Where were you when I fell, trying to break this spell entrapping me inside this shell?
I yelled for you, but the silence kept coming through.
There were no warning signs or sense of impending doom, just euphoria peeking out from behind the gloom.
I felt like I was floating but my thoughts were only reloading, hidden behind the sugar coating of my mind's self loathing.
There was no surrender or even a slight hinder, just that slender splendor I was struggling to remember.
A new sense, a nuisance, but I knew since then I would make some major improvements to rid myself of my impuissance.
I wouldn't let it get the best of me; I'd fight it restlessly.
Nothing makes a fool of me trying to act happily.
My anxiety leads to dubiety; I will not sit quietly and let it end violently.
The thing is I'm happiest when the panic has passed and crappiest when the ups tried to last.
There has to be a way to change, to rearrange, or exchange the peices that don't fit, the feelings that never quit, a way to admit that I'm ready to remit without the dramatics or to ask for help without losing myself.