Wiggly Loopy Wavey Why-ness-ness

I want to know what lies outside this fish bowl, but fear that if I jump out, I’ll surely drown. Time is pressuring me, pushing me, nagging me to do something. Every tick is a tick gone, every night a taunting reminder of yet another day’s pass. Time filters throw my soul leaving a husk of why-ness and unfulfillment. Every minute a hell and every thought is a sin. Soon I’ll be belly-up in this bowl, and the flushing chain will be pulled. And as I whirl down a drain, I’ll not be thinking of time, nor why, nor meaning, but simply, I didn’t sign up for this….

I don’t like this ‘being alive’ stuff. Every sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell infecting me. I do not want to feel, but feel I do, and it will undoubtedly be the death of me…