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When I am on the verge of collapsing, I get obsessed with fixing my mindset. I try to program it to be neat and tidy, to produce only beautiful and kind thoughts, to direct my lips into smile. To be honest, sometimes I wish I had a control device with my name carved in this elegant Monotype Corsiva font on it so that I could be controlled like one of those beautiful Stepford females, probably controlled by my inner self but better by someone else, someone who would appreciate me. In reality I just keep on inventing new rules to remain neat and tidy, I keep my smile, except when I gently stroke my hair, I end up with a handful of curls, black and hard as wire. When I am on the verge of collapsing, I get immersed into sweet thoughts of hunting or even killing a human being, then, though still dizzy from this gruesome sweetness, I get so frightened and ashamed, look, that is the mindset of psychopats and killers. The next day I'm as sweet as a lamb but in my dreams and nightmares I become the one who hunts predators and indulges in their flesh. I think, being on the verge of collapsing is being on the edge of reality. 

Lonely RoadI had a dream, so vivid it almost seems like it actually happened. I was laying in the middle of the street, right where we once laid. Gazing at the night sky, closed my eyes and took her hand in mine. Playing a game of pretend, hoping my heart would catch up with what my mind was aleady set for. Cold breeze, eyes open and a hand of emptyness... she was gone. Wandering down a dark alley, trying to follow a line that would lead me to a warmer place. Tunnel vision and air so cold my heart was slowly turning to ice. I fell and just laid there... where we once laid together.