You make me feel sick. No. Actually, I make myself feel sick to the stomach. Somehow I put myself in a position in which all food looks bleak. Black and white, it doesn’t taste right. Life doesn’t taste right, right now. Life is just a little impossible, because of its endless possibilities.
One told me they thought me fearless. A dreamer. One to make it become reality, take it out of the set of endless possibilities and just make it the one. Yet, the word itself, being without fear, would be a sure wrong description of how I feel.
So call it wishful thinking.
Call it stupid.
Call it a self-inflicted situation.
Just not fearless. Hell, I wouldn’t even make the cut for ‘brave’ right now.