Slightly mixed-up

I know now that rarely what I am thinking or feeling is me thinking or feeling but just some muddled version of a person I used to know who slowly turned right but should have turned left and made good choices and bad in equal measure and damn if bad hasn’t taken over lately like a wave hitting a child’s sandcastle. And I’m a tormentor destructor wreaker of havoc son of a bitch on my own self-image as violent as a car-wreck in slow motion because that lies more in line if I’m being honest. Life rarely fucks up at normal playback. It’s slow oh oh so achingly slow and filled with slights and small injustices and the real or fancied indifferences as Whitman mentioned and mostly just the wrong choices of mine that fall in and out of line sequenced in time and oh oh god I must divine but my mind feigns left and right and imagines I’m fine and I’m sane but I’ve been told for true that the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plains.