So I exist, then what

I might have lost my voice for the longest time. In my head there is constant chaos, so intense and powerful that I have to remain silent to keep my insanity from being unleashed. But I found out that the chaos grows in its intensity, becoming even more uncontrollable if I continue to let them be unspoken. So I have to speak my mind, even if I have nothing sensible to speak of now. 

Tonight at its tipping point, the heaviness both in my heart and body have gone to the unbearable extent. With the hope of being transported to the currently-unknown-catharsis where I can find solace in, where I need not do anything more than just being told that it is fine to be where I am who I am now, that struggles in life are real and absurd at the same time, that choosing this over that does not necessarily mean anything, I reach out to Satre's and Camus's words, and the world and people they crafted.
No, its not an escape that's most urgently in need now, but a model or a character that speaks of different possibilites of living. 

I hope I find that in Nausea.  

I hope I find my voice back.