My vision is a translucent blur and my head is constantly squeezing tighter, looser, tighter, loser. I feel like a rag drifting in the wind, the only thing that changes me are external factors. I’m not me. I’m not who I am and I’m not a being. I don’t have a sense of urgency, I don’t have a sense of enjoyment, practicality, realisation, enthusiasm or even feelings anymore.
I feel numb. I cut myself and the pain is just colour in a world of distrust and suffering without the pain or emotions. Blood is liquid soul. Red in a sea of black and white.
I feel like I’m marching along with a crowd, without any sense of individuality or uniqueness. Even the picturesque imagery of my mind feels stagnant and irrelevant. I could cry but I can’t feel sad, I would laugh but I never feel joy. I would smile but I don’t have effort. I wouldn’t bother being if I even bothered at all.
I am a prisoner in my own mind and I can’t escape it. Voices k