Phoenix

Midnight Mania Phoenix

The possibilities are infinite. I am confined to my brain. What it would feel like, to exist in midnight mania, and never know what's happening here, in this world, in all that could be considered ... nothing. Is that what midnight mania should be and become? The creative burst is bright and nice, and yet, overwhelming. All of the ideas, the ways in which they are daggers to the mind, the way in which consciousness gets subverted to the world, the way in which I become almost nothing, the way in which it feels as though I am nothing, simply existing because it would make things easier for all that exist, with me not knowing what I'm doing here and supposing that I'll have to find some kind of peace with that being the case. I'm twenty and I live alone. Time has moved fast since I was a kid. Time has moved enough to nearly destroy all that I am. My body can't keep up with my mind. I can't keep up with my existence. My existence can't keep up with the universe. I am a loser, and I'm manic. I'm a loser, and I'm in a panic. Midnight mania.