(no subject)
So everyday for my creative writing class we have to do 20-30 minutes of free writing, and today I felt perhaps I should post it. Enjoy.
One is so dependant on our bodies, it makes me sick. Once again, physically ill, which just goes to show how weak said massive form is. All it takes is one small mental subconscious suggestion and it fall to pieces. Psychosomatic symptoms running wild and betraying both sides, a double agent against body and mind. Double jeopardy for the same sin inflicted against me. Or at least the sin I felt. The mind could have manifested that as well just to fuck me and my heart over. Does my brain have a vendetta against my heart, and is that why it keeps insisting that the heart must make a medieval torture chamber in my chest? The lungs are the racks it is barred and stretched across, the lungs crushing it as screws or a press.
The feeling of such have taken up residence in my chest and refuse to leave, like a bad infection or fungus. Odd that it is that the infection really is hidden somewhere in my brain. I supposed it’s using my heart like a red herring, a fish soaked and swimming in blood. But I see through that; I can see it hiding just by the outrageous claims it makes. No, those people aren’t staring at me, laughing at me…but they might as well be, since my body is convinced that they are, the fool that it is.
Neither flight nor flight is an option when every person or circumstance is a threat to my messed up mind. Adrenaline is killing me in the most active of ways, saturating my bloodstream until my restless, most crucial muscle screams out in agony, “Please! No more!” with an evening of palpitations, trying to beat itself out of that torture chamber. Vessels inflame, pulse quickens, mind races all against a non-existent entity that wishes to do me non-existent harm.
So progressed this has become that my brain and its inner machinations don’t even waste time in giving a face to the fear anymore. Now its ammunition is nothing more then a disembodies voice that will never speak or an identity-less face that I will never see. But it’s there, and coming closer obviously, or my parasympathetic nervous system wouldn’t be running at top speed, full turbines to power. And all I can do is remember to breathe every once in a while and keep telling myself that I’m not CRAZY!
One is so dependant on our bodies, it makes me sick. Once again, physically ill, which just goes to show how weak said massive form is. All it takes is one small mental subconscious suggestion and it fall to pieces. Psychosomatic symptoms running wild and betraying both sides, a double agent against body and mind. Double jeopardy for the same sin inflicted against me. Or at least the sin I felt. The mind could have manifested that as well just to fuck me and my heart over. Does my brain have a vendetta against my heart, and is that why it keeps insisting that the heart must make a medieval torture chamber in my chest? The lungs are the racks it is barred and stretched across, the lungs crushing it as screws or a press.
The feeling of such have taken up residence in my chest and refuse to leave, like a bad infection or fungus. Odd that it is that the infection really is hidden somewhere in my brain. I supposed it’s using my heart like a red herring, a fish soaked and swimming in blood. But I see through that; I can see it hiding just by the outrageous claims it makes. No, those people aren’t staring at me, laughing at me…but they might as well be, since my body is convinced that they are, the fool that it is.
Neither flight nor flight is an option when every person or circumstance is a threat to my messed up mind. Adrenaline is killing me in the most active of ways, saturating my bloodstream until my restless, most crucial muscle screams out in agony, “Please! No more!” with an evening of palpitations, trying to beat itself out of that torture chamber. Vessels inflame, pulse quickens, mind races all against a non-existent entity that wishes to do me non-existent harm.
So progressed this has become that my brain and its inner machinations don’t even waste time in giving a face to the fear anymore. Now its ammunition is nothing more then a disembodies voice that will never speak or an identity-less face that I will never see. But it’s there, and coming closer obviously, or my parasympathetic nervous system wouldn’t be running at top speed, full turbines to power. And all I can do is remember to breathe every once in a while and keep telling myself that I’m not CRAZY!