(no subject)
it's almost two am and i have to be up in six hours and forty five minutes. i can't sleep. i can't relax. i can't move. i feel pinned to this bed, afraid to wander the halls in fear i'll be seen, spoken to, noticed. my thumbs are throbbing; i've picked them bright red. my muscles are tense. it's like there's some evil prescence. my life feels odd; i don't feel right in this skin. i don't feel human. i'm here, but only in body. i'm detached. i'm isolated. i'm... i don't know. i need something i can't voice. so i use my body to voice it. it's vivid, this pain: throbbing, pulsing. it's a silent killer. i'm letting it use me.