The world and I

As I see the world, I think, and think, and think over and over, until i come across an existential circumstance, which takes me out of my thought, but as soon as the circumstance fade away, i see the idea that lives inside me facing me again and wants to discuss. Talking to oneself is exhausting when you don't sleep much. I think i should get some sleep. But why do i think of the world this way when most of people don't, they just pretend to, and I can see it very clearly in their simple faces. This is how the story begins, it doesn't have a beginning time, but it has a manner of beginning.
The smell of anxiety is running throught my noise, eyes, and ears, the vision here is colorless and the silence is very loud