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me, out of control? what might make you say that, dear? i've just lost my mind.

Planning, planning, figuring it out Crystal clear caricatures clouded by doubt Confidence and faith full on display Insecurities and fears - inside they stay. They build and they grow till they tear you apart Till you're relapsing, no more relaxing you're forgetting your part you're supposed to be the beacon of hope and aspiration yet you're in your dark room with a fake gun to your head in desperation writing a poem to try and find some form of release the music isn't helping as much as you need trying to find the balance between your fantasy and this 'reality' so many seem to be deadlocked in belief I say it is what it is, but it isn't I

Out of Love Chapter 1 - Wounded Who are you? What are you? Why are you here? All perfectly valid and reasonable questions to ask me. However, none of them can be answered simply, not in a satisfying way, anyway. I could tell you that my name is Ajax Anchor, that I am a great white shark, and that I've been on a continuous, urgent journey for the last 11 years. That would answer each of your inquiries, no? But of course, those answers only surface more questions; How did you get that name if you're merely some wild animal? Furthermore, how can you be a shark if you have a body like a man's? Why is your trek urgent, and how has it lasted so