::Strange things::
There are strange things in these walls that you cannot see, things that fear, things that hurt.
I've tried to reach out and touch them but they're are like words lingering on the tip of my tongue.
I reach out my hand, and they are gone.
Now I wonder, if I am the one that pushed them off the edge?
It wouldn't be the first time I've sacrificed a memory in return for my sanity. But sometimes I feel like I'm missing something more important. Something that required that part of me to exist.
Like an emotion that makes no sense if you've no anchor.
Today, I am sure, will be more or less the same as all my 'waking' moments these days. I will flutter around the house like a tiny bird looking for an open window to escape into the world outside. Except I know if I step out of the door I walk right into a larger cage, where things are bright and unforgiving. And without somewhere to run to, I am just one small creature waiting to be crushed beneath the hand of God.
Mostly, I just sit amongst the cats. Try and sleep like them, try to run like them. Anything to forget this immortal headache. But sometimes I feel they know I am a bird, and it makes me anxious to think that they might destroy me.
Sometimes, the strange things wash over me like a burning wave in my solar plexus and for a moment I am pulled backwards into the shadows. Other times, like a little child pulling at my coat asking me something so utterly ridiculous I can't help but laugh quietly to myself. I don't know what it is exactly they're trying to tell me, or if I should even try to grasp it, feeling so oddly precarious of late...
...So perhaps today I might draw something, if the strange things will give me a crumb to chew on, just a taste of what I need to create.Or maybe today, I will be dacryphillia doll to something cold, and you will all know what it is to see me cry.
InkBaby x