Garbage poem that i wrote (pls gimme thoughts and constructive criticism)

I felt as if there was never any time for me to pull away from it all. 

Yet there was too much time. 

A contradicting thought. 

I never wanted to be anything, yet i found myself overwhelmed by the thought that i could never be everything i found even in the slighest, interesting. I wanted to float around in a endless sea of silence and solitude. No senses to be experienced. Then again, i wanted to be at the eye of a storm in the middle of a bustling city. I wanted to feel it all. Too little time to make a decision but also an agonizing amount of time that would sit in my stomach like i had just swallowed a cup of pure molasses. I never got to make anything beautiful or mind boggling from my anguish, it was just suffering.