Watercolor vision

It's somewhat hard to distinguish between what's real and what's not when you've been awake till 4 a.m.,but I'll have to try.

My bare feet are real and so is my coffee.I'm not so certain about this sickening taste in my mouth,but I'm pretty sure it's real too.
This really doesn't help the fact that I'm losing sight of who I am,of who I want to become.

My vision is blurry,I'm alone with thoughts I can't handle,while this unforgiving heat is slowly making me want to be in a more familiar setting.

A part of me wants to prove something,another has nothing to prove,while the other sulks in a drowsy state of being.

I've become one of those pastel paintings,all dripping in fluid,a pale picture of who I could actually be today.

It's sad and relieving,panic-drenched and calm-injected,wholesome and cancerous at the same time.

I've had a few laughs today,but of the type you need to summon from the core of your body and even to me they seemed forced and crazy.

My heart's pounding again and thoughts I wish I never had are racing behind my eyelids.

I wish I could just feel...nothing.

My colors are overflowing the frame.