Back when I was 6, I remember going to the swing as every weekend my mom would take me to Williams Park, and I would run to it like a cheetah even though there was no one around to take it, and I would jump on it, and put it on my chest like a police vest and spin in circles until the chains would be twisted like a wrapper on a jolly rancher and then, I would let go and spin like a helicopter that lost control. Although I don’t spin on the swing anymore, I still spin, just not on the outside. I’m spinning out of control emotionally and mentally like the sound of an untuned guitar and the noise in my head is bouncing all over the place like a rubber ball . I’m trying to find my rhythm, but I keep playing a messed up song that sounds like a tidal wave being blasted through your chest, that’s only hitting you. Every once in awhile I stop and smell the fresh air like I’m smelling the inside of a new car, but I’m tired of smelling that old familiar smell I always get, like walking into a office you hate working at. I can feel a ball of energy as if it were made of adamantium fire, an indestructible tension that surrounds me, waiting to explode like a nuclear bomb. My bones feel like cinder blocks that have been dragged through cement, going as fast as the car could go. Yet, I still try to touch the pleasantries of life, and taste the bitter sweet fruit that life has to offer sometimes. I feel maybe one day I will get a taste of something lively and sputter my love for life like hummingbird wings.