Black legs

I've seen this picture before.I'm experiencing heartache once more.Why do I perceive my emotions as being fake?A plastic shell over a raw core.My legs are black,my emotions on repeat mode.Nothing's as it used to be.I feel...drained.Here is my sanctuary,my freezing bliss.I wish Hell would freeze over.Just saying...You know what my drug is now?Sound.I feel deprived of natural noises and ear riots.It all seems like a peculiar paradox,considering I dwell in an environment built upon movement,action and rush.Yet everything,from walls to pages to faces,comes through as an asylum.That creepy,eerie sensation that something bad's about to happen,something that you can't control...Not here,though.Here...Here is what I have for a few fleeting moments that make it worthwhile.My energy.My sustenance for those hours when I'm not myself anymore,but a breathing carcass.Lost!Lost!Lost in an impersonal experience which has no name and no body.You get better by identifying your problem,right?Well,I can't.I can't put my trembling finger on the devil that's haunting me.It's too fast...So this is where I actually live: my home,my family,my memories.No lies,no false hopes of adaptation.In my ugly clothes,with my messed up hair,in my worn out bed.Music fills me up again like a soothing river,food nurtures me properly.I can actually breathe the air I know!You could give me a billion reasons to "let go",but my answer would remain the same: "No".This is what I truly have,nothing less,nothing more.And I feel blessed and cursed at the same time.Even so,I wouldn't give up my soul for all the knowledge and power in the world...