I’ve lived my whole life afraid, it’s time for me to be brave. I search for the light switch, but it’s not there. The papers, the documents, the applications and forms, They swim around in my corrupted mind. I can’t find my talent, I’m not enough. I try again, I fail again, I use the same technique again. I have nothing to lose, except my existence. I want to be known. I have to fight for my memories. If I don’t find myself soon, I’ll suffocate in an unknown memory. This doesn’t really make sense, does it?