I Must Be Sick

Suddenly my life is not my own. I'm a zombie.

How did this happen? A week ago, I was completely the opposite of who I am now. It's like fate turned a switch on or moved a few things around. It's like gates have been opened; whether it's to my favor or not, time will tell. Funny how friends see positive changes in me, changes I can't even see for myself.

I haven't listened to mushy songs for ages. Now it's both a hobby and a torment that I endure.

I smile effortlessly. I find so much peace in being with myself and you on my thoughts.

I'm waging a war against emotion and reason. A single hint of you and I lose the battle each time.

Clinging on the cliff. Afraid to fall. Definite that the ground is barren beneath. But hoping that maybe, just maybe, I could fly. 

I can't write enough. I can't write everything. I can't write simply because my mind plays reruns that are quicker than my thoughts. I can't write because I don't want to express; I want to keep it to myself and dissolve it within. Maybe it will all go away. Maybe I will be cured.