I Don't Know Myself Anymore I don't know how to write anymore. I don't know how to read anymore. I don't know how to speak, I don't know how to sing, I don't know how to dance, I don't know how to cry even. I look at the sky and I smile because the clouds look happy, and then I look at the shadows and I think I'm sad because the darkness suddenly overwhelms. I understand that you don't understand me most of the time, but I think it's all right, it isn't all too bad, because I don't understand me myself. Most of the time we're all playing a guessing game, and the outcome doesn't really matter on the right or the wrong. The outcome just is, and that's what we take it for.

I hold your hand, and I feel comfort, and I feel it glowing out. I talk to you and we talk to each other, after a while we start a little debate, and you suddenly close up. I think you're annoyed, but I'm annoyed too, although I don't know who I'm more annoyed with; is it you, or is it me? I think it has to be me because suddenly I'm lost as I've let go of all courage the moment I'm with you.

Then again, I lose it because it suddenly feels right all over again, although many times I feel it's wrong.   ¶ 23:37