Exsistence

What is there really left of me but a shell...nothing but a mere exsterior wondering what am i doing. And really what am I doing, i have no idea... I'm trying to live, but to live what... this life that seems like what i thought i'd be. Too much time left to think about my decisions, when did decisions determine my outcome, i remember a time where i could affix my mistakes. Now i'm left to brew over them wondering wether it's some i can overcome.

but at this point what can i overcome.