Categories > Original > Horror > Journal For the Slightly Insane
I can't keep up with anything and everything.
It's all blurred, my eyes are useless. I can't see, I can't breathe - I don't know how to anymore. I'll try to keep going but then the shaking and the trembling doesn't let me grasp what I want so much to hold.
I can't think straight, everything's too fast, coming so close but never close enough for me to touch it. I don't know what I desire, I can't know, there's isn't a thought in my mind that gives me the answer I need, I crave.
I'm changing who I am - for better or for worse is what it comes down to. I've done it before and for all the wrong reasons. Who's to say this isn't just history repeating itself?
I'm sick and I can't find a cure. I don't know where I would begin to look for one either. What cure is there for a simple loss of perception? There should be something, it's the world out there, there's always something.
Maybe she wasn't lying. I could have been wrong, and if that's true I've lost the only thing I had going right for me. I was so sure and I've lost it now, it's gone and now what exactly is still anymore?
The world's moving before my useless eyes, blurry and unfocused where the colors clash and the images bleed onto each other like they can't get away from it. They were waiting for something but it never came so they gave up on waiting - the picture stopped giving a thousand words.
Control isn't real. It's something fake to make things seem better, make it seem like things aren't helpless. Control doesn't happen - it's a lie like the smile on her face.
She was so beautiful. The warmth and feel didn't matter - the sex wasn't all I wanted, I wanted everything she was. I wanted all of it. That didn't matter though, she didn't believe me - she could believe me.
He was beautiful too. He didn't want from us. He needed from us. I couldn't give it to him. I couldn't be what I was meant to be for him. I didn't know what I had to be, or who I should have been.
My mind's still fuzzy and detached beyond what I can manage. I think. I think I should sleep. Sleep is better. The world can melt down the page. When sleep happens the world slips off and dies a little. The world can die a little, can't it?
It's all blurred, my eyes are useless. I can't see, I can't breathe - I don't know how to anymore. I'll try to keep going but then the shaking and the trembling doesn't let me grasp what I want so much to hold.
I can't think straight, everything's too fast, coming so close but never close enough for me to touch it. I don't know what I desire, I can't know, there's isn't a thought in my mind that gives me the answer I need, I crave.
I'm changing who I am - for better or for worse is what it comes down to. I've done it before and for all the wrong reasons. Who's to say this isn't just history repeating itself?
I'm sick and I can't find a cure. I don't know where I would begin to look for one either. What cure is there for a simple loss of perception? There should be something, it's the world out there, there's always something.
Maybe she wasn't lying. I could have been wrong, and if that's true I've lost the only thing I had going right for me. I was so sure and I've lost it now, it's gone and now what exactly is still anymore?
The world's moving before my useless eyes, blurry and unfocused where the colors clash and the images bleed onto each other like they can't get away from it. They were waiting for something but it never came so they gave up on waiting - the picture stopped giving a thousand words.
Control isn't real. It's something fake to make things seem better, make it seem like things aren't helpless. Control doesn't happen - it's a lie like the smile on her face.
She was so beautiful. The warmth and feel didn't matter - the sex wasn't all I wanted, I wanted everything she was. I wanted all of it. That didn't matter though, she didn't believe me - she could believe me.
He was beautiful too. He didn't want from us. He needed from us. I couldn't give it to him. I couldn't be what I was meant to be for him. I didn't know what I had to be, or who I should have been.
My mind's still fuzzy and detached beyond what I can manage. I think. I think I should sleep. Sleep is better. The world can melt down the page. When sleep happens the world slips off and dies a little. The world can die a little, can't it?
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