for your read

{Am I the right size? The right hight? The right color? Am I the right, or just that am I? Who am I? What am I? What makes me, me? If to often I question my existence or my realism. Not that of an are we in a simulation that’s it’s own debate. What does it mean to be real or alive if days feel like they float by as if theres nothing waiting in the end. How can you be around people and yet there seems to be no presence in the air. Not invisible but more displacement feeling as if your there but only as a placement or coaster for a soda that’s been opened more than a life time ago. What is it to be around other souls if you are soulless or feels to be that way, though if you question your soul does that mean you have a soul it’s there even if you don’t want one. You wake up each day but are you awake or are you just dreaming with out the dream? Does what you say or thoughts come in improper or just something you believe to improper? There’s the question of weather you are truly dumb or stupid enough to be aware that you are unintelligent yet don’t/can’t improve. There are always underlining factors that we can say are in play yet doesn’t everyone have factors in place? Like the basic found question who’s looking out for you? Who gots you? Not just with strings attached but actually has you? I’m starting to think no one truly does unless I have anything to offer worse is wanting to belong or fit in even if it breaks you. Those who understand know this feeling can’t be named ironic but can be described with emotion.}