JP Nausea

I cannot stop thinking,
This thinking is
My existence.
I am because i
Am horrified by
My existence.
Were i to stop
This constant consistancy
Would i cease to be,
As a crashing computer
Loses its memory?
Lost, i am, for i think
Of death--and you.
Of suicide, a means to hide
From my guilt and responsibility.
I think of not feeling
The absence of comfort--
The torturous
The misery and agony
Of living without
You.
And dils.
Dils.
And you.
I think
Of my existance,
Of what i think,
As who--what i am.
Is this identity--
And others (people and pets)--
How they think of me--
Can i ever be free
To be or not to be?