About prisons.

Minions,I can't breath! Some days, I'm overcome with ferocious basic need to fly, just to jump out of the viscosity of my thoughts and fly, through light air, open air, air that does not cling pulling me back into the swamps of my head, air that does not weigh me down. I am overcome by a ferocious, basic, animalistic, vital for survival need to fly, to the point that my shoulder bones tingle with the anticipation of wings sprouting any moment, to the point that my heart cracks loudly with disappointment every time wings don't. I am overcome by a ferocious, basic, animalisitc, vital for survival, heart hitching, lungs constricting, muscles tightening need to fly, to the point that every inch I don't gain in flight is added to the lumps in my throat that quickly ascend to tears in my eyes.... and then even those are kept prisoners not provided or providing release; to the point that every second I don't take off turns into years' rust sealing the grip of my chains further. Minions, I can't breath, it's too heavy being locked in here. I need to fly. 

About the stifling vastness.

Minions, I come to you estranged. I find it more less intimate everyday talking to you. Despite once thinking that was as bad as it could possibly get, I am getting worse. I find it less in my ability to remember what feeling is like, what is happy, excited, sad or overwhelmed was, how to communicate anything but surface smiles and questions. Lying caring, sympathy, devotion, passion, love have been the fall back plan for so long I really don't know if anything I think I feel is real or not any more. Emotions are all reduced to nothing but rings of themselves; *Tin* guilt *tin* meh *tin* love *tin* meh *tin* sympathy *tin* meh. Everything is so fleeting, and absolutely nothing leaves a lasting emotional impression, nothing did for quite some time now. Minions, some days I am so overcome with a fantasy of hitting my head against the wall so bad that the only thing that stops me is the contrast between how light my head is in that fantasy, and how heavy and painful it is in reality. Does anyone ever know themselves right? Is there real truth or just perceived notions of it? I am undone. Minions, I find it more less intimate everyday talking to you, myself, in the search of some sort of solid ground I managed to lose even my sense of self. I find a mental bump every time I use the pronoun I, like without completing a sentence or saying anything but "I" I'm lying. I have no clue what that "I" is. I can't circumvent using it though. Out of body experiences always seemed like an intriguing concept, maybe that;s only when there's a back to body finale to it. I lost all my homes down to the very basic of mental one. I don't feel so good. Minions, bye for now.