And so you enter the wrong room after struggling with the wrong set of keys after dialing the wrong number on a cell phone that isnt yours. You battles with clothes than dont match, a body you didnt bargain for, a mind so far removed from where you sit. You smile an alien smile, you make conversation that you dont care about- and in the meantime you loose yourself.

You start a text message, because you figure you need to talk to someone, because you figure that if these thoughts start fermenting in your head you might end up giving up soon, and so you begin to type. 'I dont think...' and thats it, and thats enough to make you slam your phone shut, and it sits there, unaware of how much has been forsaken through technology and tears.

I dont think i can do this.

Not anymore, the shit has officially hit the ceiling.

What now?