Twenty-two prose

When things are clear, it's easy,

But it rarely has been.

Energy is drained and I'd rather be numb,

Then feel a range of emotions where happiness might exist.

I'm meant to miss in all ways,

Some ways,

No ways,

And I do,

But I am never fixated.

I can't make sense of myself when I live in it,

It might be the end when I know. 

Do I do it now?

Pain and fragility exists here,

And the mind has all of the possibilities that may not be true

And if the inside was known,

I might be held even if I was the sun.