Sometimes I feel as if I'm forever waiting until the next time I won't be myself. Projections of fear, anxiety, frustration litter my head, the way my matchsticks litter the ground around me. I'm waiting for my cigarette to end so I can light up another one. Another drag, what a drag. With the cigarette on my lips, I think: this is the most action I'll get all day.
But also...
Right now I can feel Her thoughts, I can hear Her voice, softer than mine, more apprehensive. My vision changes; I see the surrounding environment the way She sees it. It's happening in flashes. Right now gently, almost lovingly, she is sidling into my mind. She is helping me forget, She is pushing me away, and I'm ok with that. Right now I feel the tensing of my muscles, the quickening of my heart beat, secretions from the sudoriferous glands on my hands. These are Her preparations for the distress She will endure for me.
I try to formulate the last complete thoughts I will have as myself, as Anna, but it might be too late. At this point it's just a matter of time before I disengage entirely. Right now She has a strong hold on me.
She doesn't know much about anything really real. She looks through a snow globe, through plastic. And god, She hates plastic. But it's everywhere, and She's enclosed in it. I'm engrossed in Her little world because we share it, and I've grown somewhat fond of the little thing.
Two different clocks tick at two different seconds- ticktick ticktick titick titick ttick
No comments:
Post a Comment