Suspended

Paradox, once again finds the high pedestal it set for itself, once upon a time in my life.
As I am snatched of the few seconds I have to speak my mind, I am pushed again to speak my heart. I've stopped trying to think like me for slowly I'm losing the actuality of who I am somewhere amongst the forever mingling ideas of what I am.
I am straying from this reality, yet a step away from fantasy, deprived of clear thought as I struggle to distinguish between what the mirror sees and what I see.
The fantastical idea of who I could be continues to haunt me and yet I seem not to find the gumption to be it.
I tire of looking in the mirror, the gaze is critical.
I no longer want to be in the utopia I once possessed.
For once,
I just want to be.


[It's weird the kind of thoughts that come to you after a night of broken sleep and meaningless dreams.]