Excuse the Dust well we do some mental maintenance

It often feels like I don't have control. Every word, every movement is another cut into my sanity that ultimately drives me further into this place where all I can think of is " Getting Out" as if it where some fake place or hold, that I could slip out of into where life is perfect and real. The feeling of ultimate rage begins with words I don't mean to people whom have incompetent notions as to what is going on. This followed by the feeling like...Things need to get better or else the shit is going to hit the fan and I don't think I'll be able to pick myself up from that again. And than there's the even better feeling of " Why do I try!" because once I pick my life back up and become comfortable in the place I seem to be stuck...Things shift and I feel ill again. And that's where I am again, today, everyday, forever on or so it seems. So when you see me tomorrow, next week, never, don't bother to add to my all ready messy sense of self, just excuse me well I do some mental maintenance.