Don't Feed Me

What keeps me satisfied is now eating me alive.
I guess now the possibilities in life taken me to new extremes.
I just realized that I've always been the person who takes pleasure behind feeling frightened, behind anxiety.
I settle with the thought of being uneasy.
It's like crying without any reasons.
Sometimes you just don't know why you cry, but it makes you feel better anyway.
Or like rubbing your eyes when they itch, it doesn't make it any better, yet it gives you that comfortable feeling after rubbing it, which leads you to a much worse irritation.

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