Origin of events

Origin of events

I run every day to go to work but I'm not happy in my mind. I feel the desire to do other things and play with my brain so that the negativities go away but I can not. I feel my heart beating and I want it to stop so I'm tired. I do not want to live and the heaviness of thought frustrates me, and I feel discomforted. I want to see you monotonously before me. Then I look at the window of my car and see you. You are not good at all, but you are almost reckless for the darkness that accompanies you. The world is ruined. I can enclose in a sequence of photos the movement around and now that I look awful. But I can not help it because it's my life. I'm almost on the end of the road and the flat line of the horizon is in front of me. It appears as a larva at the end of its existence. I do not want to reduce that. Even today I came to the end of the race: the office is waiting for me. It's another day.