i scoff at silence and the inner workings of my mind sometimes. when there's nothing outside it to slow the motion, i think past reality and consider possibility. i'm winded, chasing the hypotheticals that run too far, too fast. i scare myself with thoughts that i'm inadequate that i'm wrong. who's got it right in this world? can we ever truly be certain that our way is the right one? we've got to have faith in something: can it be me this time?