convey me, World.

it's difficult to begin to describe this inconceivable state of mind. by far, this is the hardest gulp of anger, guilt, disappointment, fustration, and confusion to swallow. the list of emotions elongates with the scrambling of my lost feelings, all eager to surface but at the same time fervent to find and sink into a comforting and belonging place. the ever-exhausted and laborous hands of the blue clock on the off-white wall, ticking with a tiresome tune that echos through my hallow head, prolongs my mixed musing and with every 'tick' sound, manages to racket those muddling trains of thoughts against the confined quarters of my little skull.
i am waiting. i am waiting for my clock. i am waiting for my clock, which currently ticks with a comforting tone, to count down 'til the day i enter eternal peace of mind where i can finally grasp my nonexistent state of solitude. every man is marked. from the day he gasps his first breath of air, his clock ticks and times him to accomplish exceptional feats until the very day the clock ceases to operate - the very day he breathes his last breath of life. as for myself, i have accomplished no exceptional feats. no glorious triumphs. no eminent exploits.
what do i find myself doing? something incogitable.

how i'd love to break my clock.