i can’t see how this possibly fits in. this, that, anything. how can i ever come to terms if the terms keep shifting? even surrendering sounds like a lost cause. i can’t help but be consumed, try as i might to not be. i am who i am. my head. poor me, i suppose. left with nothing but what i supply for myself. that should be enough ammo. nothing seems wrong, yet nothing seems right. where to go now?

give it time, give it time. this too shall pass.

and then?