My brain hinders my progression upwards. Hopeless, strains the hands of a functionless dumb idiotic brain fog . Balanced, is a foreign word to this chemical imbalanced highly distracted boy in a supposed manhood state. Going back, there is nothing balanced about my fallen lifeless existence. I woke up to this nightmarish day, never being productive but only wasteful. Do, I have à probelm, reaching out in vanity, to understand my dim dilemma. My skill level is like à dunst staring in à corner of à third grade class. I am guilty of being shallow and coping with an addictive personality, with à shake of selfishness. I am in à small step by step process of transforming into à creative individual human species. It’s not about popularity but cold hard truth with à mixture of love.