You’re just an empty animation bubble
My sister forgot to take her pills. Anxiety; a dark, hazy, transcending illusion. It’s that feeling you get when you can foretell a disaster. Before it rains and the sky is purple and cloudy. Thunder rumbling, warning this city of sin that they’re about to be punished. The palms sweat, the hair twirls, and the stomach churns just like every time you see lightening in a smoky sky. It’s pay back, I just don’t know which sin god’s yelling at me about. It’s the dark song with the threatening lyrics on while you’re staring at the window, stuck in deep traffic. At that moment you realize, there’s punishment happening everywhere. You’re reminded of all the bad that happens in just one second. You feel there souls’ falling has the rain drifts down on the car window sill. Anxiety arrives, like you’re dark nightmares of the devil arising back inside of you. You have no idea what I’m fucking capable of. At one moment, I can ruin a life as fast as I've imagined it. In seconds there image of me can go from normal to insane. “You’re just a dismantled bomb” That’s what Katie will say. Katie will look right back at me in that mirror while hearing that music and her reflection will be a black devious stare. I don’t trust her. I’ll never have control. Anxiety is running in circles, crying, and all with a shortness of breath. It’s my dad’s drumming of the same tune of that classic rock song with those long loud and tapping finger nails. Katie just closes her eyes, keeps it inside and leans on the window “Music is what makes you feel even angrier” Katie will always say. Repeat, repeating absolutely everything; tap your shoe nonstop for minutes. Thinks: This car door can’t be opened. This traffic will be the death of me. Breath almost lost. Just one more note, one more tap, one more minute, one more time and this bomb will blow.
She couldn’t blow without any oxygen. Panicking; loss of life, the sky…it’s so dark. My sin is so evil…when did rock bottom stop? “You’re just a dead carcass washed to shore” I think. It was the death, in a sense…the first time I lost it. Before I even knew what rock bottom was…then you’re in the pool of your aftermath. It contains laughs and thunder all in unison, everything minus anxiety. You and the devil happen to work side by side now. Anxiety was passed along…to sister’s that haven’t seen the black side of things. Which only means that I stand alone; explaining that day I died. The day it rained again, the day I wrote, the day I jumped to the dark side to plan truce with the one who was torturing me, the one on the opposite side of the mirror, she only stopped the anxiety switch when I agreed to the dark plan. Someone should be helping a world in distress, especially when you can foretell the disaster, feel the sin. But instead all I do is write, it’ll save the souls who are smart enough to appreciate rock bottom, it'll save nobody at all. At that moment you know, demons aren’t born, they’re created with each and every drop of hatred.