Super Unoriginal Literal Bullshit but This is How I Feel

I'm crumbling. Or shattering.
Whatever a human does that is the equivalent of glass breaking into millions of pieces
or a clod of dirt dissipating when a child throws it against a hard surface. I'm turning to
dust and blowing away in the wind like Josh Hartnett at the end of 30 Days of Night.
I'm lost or way too found.
I'm on the verge of giving up on things that I thought were the point.
My heart is beating faster than normal but I can't feel it.
At least I know it's there I guess.
I'm so distracted. So confused. So torn down. Worn down.
I try so hard for so long and put myself through gauntlets of painful torture
to end up really getting nowhere at all.
I'm a fucking masochist.
I'm an idiot.
I'm a hypocrite.
I'm alone.
I try to accept the things that have come.
I try, like I always try.
I believe and I trust and I hope and I care and I feel and I help and I fail.
I die inside.
More than once.
I'm dead inside.
For good.
I thought I was wise.
That's what they told me.
Well fuck wisdom.
Fuck maturity.
Fuck my head up and my heart up and my mind up like you do.
Like I do.
It's my fault.
I allow it.
I coax it.
I cuddle it and kiss it and fuck it.
I love it.
I'm like a tiger that escapes from the zoo once.
I live my life all caged up and I act like I'm okay with it.
Then I break out and make some progress, but you don't get too far.
You get killed. Put fucking down.
So I'm at that juncture.
The crossroads.
The decisions.
The game show.
Life.