My notes are filled with bullet points of meaningless to-dos to give my ego some meaning to this frail life.
I’ve processed most of life like cliff notes.
Give me the overview, the synopsis, the character list and personalities, explain to me the conclusion and I’ll give you my report. A mere regurgitation of what you think I should think or what you want me to see. I’ll lie and tell you, “yes, of course.” Or, is that really true?
I keep things close.
You’ll never know.
It’s all bullshit. The iPhone won’t give me the words I need next.
Autofill.
I just want to make sure you have a good time.
Their words not mine.
Start fast, keep going, don’t move. You’ll be okay.
There are days I wonder if life is just a series of exiles. Waiting for the next person to be crowned king or queen while you’re awaiting the ax in the cellar.
Boom. Swing.
New life next.
The flame quickens to give you the life force to make moves.
To make money.
Not buying what they sell.
Exhaustion.
Fatigue.
This isn’t what I asked for.
They want me to take their labels. To fit their system. They want the assimilation of a society all clothed in uniform stray jackets.
Liberation.
Scream into the void.
Pin drop silence.
No one worries about the truth.
They’ll ask you very politely if you’ve seen any images, had visions lately, or heard voices. They are trying to find another label.
Write another prescription.
Go to another therapist.
Radical acceptance is the answer.
HAHAHAHAHAHA
He lies in wait. Walking around. Stalking the children.
Did no one hear me when I screamed into the void?!
Ahem.
I mean, did you not hear what I just told you?!
Right.
“Can’t believe it.”
“Must be so hard for you.”
“I hope you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry if you think I did that.”
You wonder why I don’t answer when you speak. Your empty attempts to comfort me mean nothing. Does soothing yourself to think I’m okay make you feel better? I’m glad. You can sleep safely at night? Gosh, I’m so pleased for you.
Pin drop. Flashback.
Sweat infused nightmares.
Choking in the shower as I attempt to swallow another episode.
The physical sensation does not lie.
My body keeps reminding me.
It happened.
It really fucking happened.
Survivor.
Deal with it.
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