What am I supposed to think, what am I supposed to do? I sit here staring at the things around me that make no sense. I'm back again, I just don't know for how long. The world fades in and out of view. The tables turn, the floor flips upside down. I'm sinking in the sand, falling through the plane that was the floor and was a wall and was a celing. It's spinning and falling and crumbling down, I'm flying dodging barreling round. Something got into me, and is rearranging me, from inside. Or something snapped and now the control is is someone elses hands, or maybe no ones at all. Step after step after step gets me nowhere, nothing but darkness or blinding light, jagged rocks and the shards of broken dreams and memories, my naked feet bear down on them, they cut deep within my soles. surrounded on all sides by the empty canvas that is my unpainted future. Stumbling through these shallow days, and falling to my knees. I happen across a piece of broken mirror, a reflection of me looks back at me, I see who I was and where I was going, down a trail, a trail nolonger lit, I'm forging a path between paths, through tall grass and dense fog, hoping I'll find the path I was supposed to be on, or at least the one I need to find now. This path for me has ended, and I refuse to be stopped, I'll walk sideways looking for the path I am to continue on. I cant go back, there's nothing there to go back to. . . . 