The more I talk about myself the further I get from myself.
I only wanted to say, I feel very alone...
No metaphors. Metaphors are like the perfect flowers of death. They are an illusion because real flowers can never be perfect. And need not to be.

But, as seen above, I can't stop invoking the illusion of perfection to protect me.

I am cut off reality. Sometimes metaphors are fun but maybe I don't deserve them (like when I was a child and I was too fat to deserve what the other kids had. First, a few laps around the track...)

I have a million thoughts in the same time, they are chasing each other. A few more laps...It's a trap. It's a war. It's my own mental hunger game. I will stop abusing metaphors, just want someone to understand me. It hurts so much that there is this wall, part of my personality, part of me. The wall between me and the world.
I "live" in my own little snow globe.

But it will break one day and all the disgusting darkness will be revealed. And then I'll be free. Yay.