There’s pressure, tension, pulling and tearing in my head… NO escape! The sounds of a hundred thoughts and feelings ring; the pain is real and yet…NOT. It is there, it does exist, and yet it is real only for me. Each thought calls for analysis… if I do this then maybe, or be careful here, be sure not to … sometimes reflections on past conversations play in this noise. Did you misspeak? Did you offend, or leave any trace to bring embarrassment later? Remember the details, who were you in that instance? So often I seem a different person in different situations, I try to be real but the effort is staggering. So many questions play “What have you told?” “What have you kept, and why?” All relationships are tentative keep that door of escape open! These and so much more play in my head and all it seems at once, it is like an attack! Transitory… Perhaps but if one thought leaves it will return and bring with it dozens more. They fill my head till is seems to swell, and I can’t stop them! Swirling like a tornado the thoughts assault me till the pain is physical it is real pain. But I can’t see it, can’t explain it, can’t bandage it or soothe it. This is when it happens. In those moments with teeth clenched, gut tensed, and holding in my head all the pain that screams and howls inside my mind… until this distraction, this line of release forms. It is like a microscopic zipper that this edge, this blade imperceptibly opens releasing everything. There is blood yes it is unfortunate, but the sting is life! I do exist! It is real! The line develops, writing the story in red that appears on the flesh like some kind of invisible ink, a lemon juice letter exposed to the heat. And then, as the writing appears, the pain oozes out, the tension is less. The distraction of the sting brings a focus to stop that storm. Just to look at the scratch brings a smile of satisfaction, almost an afterglow somewhere from deep within. It was an itch, a need now satisfied. It seems Impossible to explain, horrifying to see. Insanity, I don’t know… but who does this?
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Either I will find a way, or I will make one.
Philip Sidney