the capitals

there is no way to define it. it's meaningless and yet it's most of me. i cannot fully separate imagination from experience. you have no idea how much this paragraph annoys me.

it's seamlessly flat. perfectly flush. streamlined into my obtuse life. irritatingly obscure. persistently present. it's cdo, of course not. no. it's everything i'm not. it's part of what I am.

for on an average, every other second is a thought of non-worth. wasted time and effort pours into extreme discrimination. it's comical, it's functional. and it's often more than I can safely bear.

i worry over everything. i can't not. but i'm so good at pretending, i'm not pretending anymore. there's always a voice to tell me to start over, to try again. even when I've yet to really begin.

i dream all the time. in the day and the night. i confuse realities with what i know just couldn't be right. so when someone comes to talk to me, i feel i've done it before. yet i haven't. yet i have. yet i haven't yet i have yet i haven't yet i have. i pause and examine my ridiculous thoughts. no, that was in just in your mind. yes, you've paused for too long. no, this isn't insanity. you're wasting time.

Then a moment comes so swiftly and it sweeps me off the ground.

I realize I've been corroding in my own mind.

Unexplainable peace spreads from new thoughts I find.

It's worthy of the Capitals and all the attention I can conjure.

When will I fully conclude that it's completely profound?

I must be slow and lazy for it hasn't happened yet.

The indescribable meaning of this stable mindset.

It's real and tangible and no delusion of grandeur.