Pardon?

Each person has a steady equilibrium.
When we veer, we either adapt or we come back.
I have adapted.
I have.
And memories,
They are ghosts. They don't exist outside.
This is life.
This.
And I am living, but
I can't see through the smoke;
can't breathe with this stuck in my lungs
forever. And I won't tell,
He won't tell
It didn't happen.
I was dreaming.
As far as we know,
nothing really has happened.
It keeps jump cutting.