There may have been a time when I wasn’t as confused as I am now. This state of mind is a catalyst for vivid dreaming and half-baked story ideas, but I just can’t remember ever knowing why I was feeling anything I’ve ever felt. Of course, my self-analytical nature has been there misleading me to potential causes from the very beginning. Though, it seems I just find myself with new symptoms like the ebb and flow of the seasons. Perpetually, I confuse self-diagnosis with self-medication and fool myself into believing that saying something aloud, giving a problem a name, is an effective way to take its power. I don’t forgive myself often enough to learn from my mistakes but I’ll vow to completely change everything about who I am, just like I did last week, so that I can fall asleep for 3 a.m.