How can I see a way out of these empty endless line of thoughts? Is there a way where I can easily get out without hurting my wings?

All things consider, I like myself.

A grandes rasgos, pero así se empieza.

Quizás, quizás, quizás.

I feel just like an open book,
Exposing myself in this neighborhood
Talking to people as if I'd knew them well
Thinking that everyone has come through different kinds of hell
Lately I found myself in doubt,
Ask myself what it's all about
What am I doing here? What's this leading to?
What's the point of all? 
I've got promises to keep like a cannon would land upon my feet, each time I fall

Every now and then in dreams by the river with no trees, leaves are yellow, red and brown, and I hear you whisper in my ear; Your love belongs to everyone.
I feel just like an open book, a couple of words, it's all it took.
In front of the bright white covers, still vacantly against my will, a drifting vessel in the storm pushed around, from shore to shore.
I know there's so much left to see
I know I have so much left to give
But the memories remain, yet the scars don't feel the same
Filling page just one by one, in the warmth of other suns

Open book - José González