every time i allow my mind to overwork, 

to spin & turn its notches that are rusted & withering away, 

i always end up turning them back off,

allowing them to give into the ultimate sense of bliss: the power of nothing.

because, because,

i'll never be able to find the answers as to 

why she is the way she is, 

why he did what he did, 

why i am.. what i am. 

SO WHY TRY?

i fucking quit.