My mind is running at 25 miles per hour

I’m laying my bed typing my 25 mile per hour thought. This is call being anxious. Maybe. But also drunken by the smell of the bacon sous egg bites from a 5-hour work day. It is crazy. I was fast but I was just anxious. It was so busy that my mind feels weird resting. I couldn’t really breath for hours. There were so much stimuli happening within that short period of peaks. It’s like your blood sugar spikes so so high that when it clashes, you don’t know what to do—in shock. 85 just felt like walking in the moon (because I’ve felt nothing like it). There were so so much going on that I had an epiphany of heart attack. One quick pain and then gone at 23. So many craziness that makes me want to scream or throw it all up. I feel overwhelmed. I hold myself in. The bacon Gouda in my system. I could’ve turn into bacon. However, fried. I’m listening to musics. They did some to distract my 25 mile-per-hour drive. Non-stop. Here we go. Ready, set, take-off. I can’t wait to land on my peacefulness. R.I.P p.s. this is not a suicide note. It just felt like it describing. An epiphany of being on the fastest elevator. The mind is a place of fascination not even compared to anything Disney.

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