While listening to Sibelius, Symphony #2

A bitter feeling in my mouth, covered with chocolate.
Misery.
Failed, poored, obstructed, complicated.
Rethinking.
Help!
Does nobody hear?
Suicide comes closer.
No. This must not be!
It moves further away,
into the distance...
I want to live.
Live happily.
finally a happy life.

Oh, what the hell.
The change is not complete yet.
Bitter.
Lost time.
Lost words.
Lost feeling.
Desire.
Deep down, high up?
Friction. I get stuck at everything. Distorted, one part pulls down, the other one pushes up.
Wonderful music in the radio: Sibelius Symphony #2, op.43.
Feeling is here, gone again, I don't know what I am writing,
unsure.
No support.
But actually everything is clear
could be
tohuwabohu, mess

I have said what I wanted to reach

I have not reached it

I feel deaf, deaf for everything from outside, for any feeling
I am desperately dead.

I must not write that I have nobody and that nobody likes me - that would be a lie.
Has the dichotomy been solved?
I am still hoping, I miserable...