It’s mind over matter. It’s the simplicity of the chaos that hit me. It’s the banality of the truth. It’s the suspension of time in its essence. I could tell you more but you simply wouldn’t understand.

See, it’s not about your inability or the fact that you want to know more. It’s that you wouldn’t understand because you aren’t me. You don’t want understanding to seek coherence or clarity. You want it for small talk and for wisdom lost. You want it to feel good about yourself rather than understanding me. It’s not about me anymore the minute you say “But I wanna know”. It slaughters my purpose and nudges me to my defeat.
What good is mere understanding imparted on my sanity than the choice you make based on your selfishness.

See, I told you wouldn’t understand so why bother?

Why bother to waste a single breath from a thousand that my wrecked lungs hold so dearly? Why let my battered ribs squeak with ache as I move? Why let the formidable occur if I could survive with resilience?
It’s not that you can’t understand. It’s that I don’t allow you to.

So the next time I perch myself on the ledge of that balcony on fifth floor don’t ask me to hold on.