I’m anything but typical, predictable. I like it that way.

It’s safe to say most wouldn’t understand my brain, fuck half the time I don’t understand it.

Maybe that’s what’s wrong with our world, we’re always trying to figure why someone did something. They probably did it because they wanted to, isn’t that what we all do?

I stopped trying to figure out why I do things a while ago but it even shocked me when I bought the ticket and shocked me even more when I boarded the plane.

I made the decision alone. Not because I don’t trust anyone, but because I couldn’t bear to say it out loud. My mind couldn’t form the words for my mouth to release. Even if I could, that would make it real. Permanent. If I don’t tell anyone it could stay a secret. Maybe I dreamt it after all.

No one would suspect or even believe the things I’ve done.

It’ll definitely make for some juicy gossip if (if) they find out.

I don’t know if they will, I don’t know if I’ll be alive when they do, I don’t know much of anything anymore.

I try to find myself in things, places and in dreams but I’ve been searching for eternity and I’m weary. Is it possible my soul is invisible even to myself?