Crazy, Hurtling, Spinning

I've gotta stop this, gotta put an end to these feelings I seam to inflict upon myself. It's almost obsessive. Crazy. I can't seam to control it though, hell I can't seam to control anything anymore. How much pain can one inflict on ones self before it all becomes to much and you hurtle in a downward spiral to a place you can't come back from? What if it's the only way you can feel, the only way you know your alive? I carry my scars well I think. No one knows unless I tell them, so no one ever knows. I cling to things which I cannot have, dream of things that will never be. Hurtling. Do I do crazy things because it's fun, or because I don't care what happens to me? Maybe that's what makes it so fun. Why can't I say that I don't care anymore and actually not? Why am I compelled to care and have concern when it is neither asked for or wanted? Spinning. So I guess I'll keep plummeting faster and further out of control until I hit that bottom of no return. I welcome it though, at least I'll know I was alive.