I am confused. You make me thus, and it becomes a fake lie out of the nylon thick air that surrounds the words.

I don't know what I'm doing...

Neither do I.

I wish things came as easily to you as they do in fairy stories. It seems as time goes on that the violent upheaval of thrust upon fate is making you mad.

The real world seems to have spit blood upon you, and you're unresponsive and not breathing.

Yes
No
Do nothing