Paralyzed.
Day after day, without realizing, she progressed to this thing of great trouble.
The unassuming sleep of an empty routine propelled her along: rest, dance, drive, work, binge, clean.
Then came the day. She did not understand why she felt so tired, down, worn.
The day progressed; as did the minutes, so did those feelings: heavy, dreary, scared.
Closer and closer,
till she lay down and cried. Tear after tear came; she is still not used to the capacity for tears. The warmth is refreshing after much time of drought.
She holds in screams, only allowing herself that privilege from her core to her lips. The skin on her face boils with pressure: red, bulging, hot. She does not make a sound.
All this horror hidden inside and for what?
She is unable to be who she desires: able, strong, level.
Instead, she feels less than useless: a parasite;
parasite;
parasite;
and for what.
Nevertheless, she got in the car, and was driven away.
Too bad Moon cannot actually listen.
10-3-22
YOU ARE READING
Afternoon Thoughts
Non-Fictionメ Thoughts of a bleeding mind. Sometimes, the darkest thoughts swirl to become the most beautiful dance when woven into words. To write calms me. Perhaps someone will know these feelings.
