Rip currents choking me constantly. No matter the amount of pot smoked, or the amount of Prozac consumed. Torturous and stabbing thoughts barge into my mind and kill the newborn happiness and peace with their burning hot swords. The pain is sour, hot, liquid fire. It erodes the walls of my mind that act as a nursery to the best parts of me; the healthy parts of me. Trying with all of it’s might not to tumble over and lose the battle, the walls of my mind rattle and shake to stay erect and guard over my inner happiness. It sends shock waves down my whole body, deep into my heart and soul. It’s like I die for a little while. Immobile, dead silent, and completely stunned. These thoughts, this heart, this body….I wish it would all burn away.
I’ve changed so much. My life and everything. The plot has thickened and twisted so much, I could write a book and sell millions. The plot never ceases to fucking thicken.