Armchair Apocrypha

This is my life, I feel like I'm in some bizarre hallucinogen -induced state that is entirely of someone else's creation. What am I supposed to do in a world that I am foreign to? Who do I seek out as help, who do I trust, who do I love and who do I let see me cry? When do I lie and when do I tell the truth? If I am asked about my current state, I feel it unnecessary to share the truth. Not only is it nearly undecipherable (even to me), it's somewhat unimaginable. That somebody would feel so out of place, so foreign in such a normality focused world, who feels like that? Somebody that belongs elsewhere, obviously. And perhaps I do. But can you help me? Can you show me a little love? Give me something I can hold on to? A peice of honest matter you have found? I miss that, I miss it all, I want it back.