The Pensieve

I'm not 100% sure where my head is tonight.I really need help."The Man Who Sold The World" keeps playing in my sleep.I don't know what to call it if you don't dream, but still have dream-like events occur when you sleep.No dreaming, just a single song.That's been happening lately among other things.I really need some help but I've said that so many times that people dismiss it as just a rough patch that I'll overcome.This isn't that lately.I've been taking up foreign habits.I'm so ashamed, I won't/can't even write them out.So reversed.I have no clue why I'm even writing more now.Just noticed I've been on a post-a-day streak.No idea why.I'm so sorry that we are alone.This isn't a poem or scattered thoughts tonight.I've said sorry so much that the words carry no weight but what else can I say?I want to do, but I don't get that.I meant it all and now we are so alone.So many little details left like rocks unturned.I can feel people who read this laughing at me.Russia, Australia, US.Go on and laugh.I can't talk like this to a single person anymore, so whatever space I can carve to get this shit out of my head, I'll take.I really wish I could play with Madison right now.My door is always closed.I don't say much.Tried my best and didn't succeed.There's this lock in me, I want to be so happy and I can feel it in me, but there's a lock on it and it won't break.I can feel it, I can see it filling me up, but It isn't.Once whoever you are finishes this block of words, it won't matter by then.