I feel like I am coming apart at the seams. Like a dead girl living in hell. My brain is screaming with a million different voices, all fighting for dominion of my life.
My mind, my thoughts, are land mines threatening to explode, raining down death and destruction at the tiniest of movements.
I just want the debilitating fear, the agonizing hopelessness to stop.
I crave stillness. Peace.
I want to take a flame thrower to the thoughts filtering through my mind, burn it to the ground.
Dig the tangled ruin from beneath my skin and fling it away.
Rip the skin open and spill the pain on the ground, watching as it commingles with my blood and drips apart onto the cold and broken ground.
A living dead girl playing in the ash. Breathing in the smoke, grinning in the ruin.
Relishing the stillness.
I crave this constant drum of thoughts to die, to pause, to stop and never continue.
I am desperate for this awful pain to cease in its persistent attack.
There is an itch beneath my skin, a burning, screaming ache.
An ache that screams in benediction that I must ignore, with every once of my being. I must find the stubborn will to resist the charmed allure of this undeniable gorgeous ache.
It’s not a joke, it’s not funny, it isn’t me being pathetic. It’s highly real in the sense that it consumes me and controls me. A living, breathing entity inside of my brain.
I contain it, with an iron fist. I control and keep my mask sealed tightly to my face, covering up all of the cracks and the crazy.
I hold tight to my crazy.
Keeping it reined in, in silence or in chatter, desperate to contain every last bit of shrapnel zinging through my thoughts.
The insanity that lives inside my head staggers me.
I desperately seek silence.
I breathe. I break.