I am one who falls victim toward my own imagination. How with little motivation, I imagine unpleasant mundanities, and hyperbolic horrible scenarios so frequently they be made seemingly real. Despite that these fleeting truths are not but figments and hold no form in outside reality; their claws cut deep, and they engulf the senses.
I hope others who have this quirk as I do come to understand it better than I, and can control their minds so not to undergo these idiotic tortures. I may forever be caught in this cyclical system of self-abuse and dried of self-esteem, but I hope I can at some point, in some fashion, help others out of these trenches.
thirteen clovers 