you're not alone

I felt compelled to let my thoughts rampage. I forced myself to write as much and as fast as I could without letting up. Here's what happened.

I haven't the slightest clue what happened. As far as I know, my surroundings have been present for at least 15 billion years. Prior to the setting, I can't even speculate about the nature of reality. But lo and behold, here I am, forcing this pencil against an old notebook from a landmark year in college. College? How did I get here? I'd be fooling myself if I thought these perceptions were normal. I am fooling myself. I shouldn't be here. What is happening to me? Why have I been subjected to this body, this corporeal substance? I'm so tied up in thought that I can't even express the anxiety that consumes me. If only I could stop thinking and simply write all the things that are bottled up inside me, I might be able to unveil some of the deepest emotions within me. Perhaps those emotions don't even want to be revealed, which is thus why I fail at releasing them. Who is holding them back? Me? Will these emotions identify me? Is it my own self that is preventing me from knowing my true nature? If this is the case then it is obvious I don't even know who I am. Just some outward performance of worthless sketching.

I should do this free-write stuff more often.