where is my mind

if I knew Buddha, if I knew Siddhartha, if he knew me and I knew him and he was at his point of enlightenment, if he had journeyed through his lifetimes and found his calm, cool center, he would look at me and he would be disappointed. i am attached to my mind. my mind is my greatest issue. i overthink. i am overaware. can one be too aware? yes. i am lost in my own thoughts. i am to well aware of my actions and the reasons behind my actions and the place my actions put me in, where i stand in the eyes of others. i am wide eyed in ways that no one wants to be. my curse is that i know i am the same as everyone else, yet i so badly want to be my own snowflake. i am a child of existential angst and bad parenting. a child of passion, but where does my passion get me? it gets me lost. i am barefoot and blind, my pale skin reflecting a thousand moons seen by a thousand eyes. i am your eyes, i am my mind, i am the way your lips curl when you're thinking about things you shouldn't be. forbidden hopes and dreams, i know what you want, what everyone wants. we are all simple animals. you want your basic necessities: food and sex. what is the point of passion if we're really only here to create and create and create. our only contribution to the world is fucking to the point of creation. all we are is nothing. time is irrelevant. if the earth ended today, no one would ever know i existed.
that's the beauty in existence. you have nothing and everything.
it's only after we lose everything that we are able to do anything.