I have always been a big fan of words.
But I couldn't put a name to the nightmare that's been keeping me up all night even with my eyes wide open. Tight-lipped, bloodshot eyes, and thoughts like acid rain, burning at the back of my mind ready to wreak havoc like a hurricane. And there's a monster that haunts me, dressed in red and memories I'd forgotten. She points the gun of violence against my temple as I plead for sanity. Knees bleeding, hands in the air, left vulnerable. The midnight thief strikes again, grabs my happiness by the throat, and watches it struggle to break free like a hungry predator caged, food deprived for years.
I have always been in love with words. But this time i stutter, my lips shiver as the letters vibrate from my voice box. I couldnt label what i feel. It tastes like whiskey, and I was on my way to sobriety. Desperate to get away from the sadness that I was addicted to. My tongue curls at the taste of the burn, but I fell in love with the pain. And the monster right in front of me is a kleptomaniac, robbing me of the right to sleep at night. I've always wanted to grab a scalpel and crack my skull wide open, to look for corpses of who i was and wonder how many versions of myself i have buried underneath the ashes of memories burnt by reality. My world is a snow globe constantly shaken, and there are ice crystals that coats my soul, so I stay paralyzed. I couldn't move.
I hear people say, human beings are dynamic. And the only constant here in this world is change. But I seem stuck solving the rubiks cube called depression and anxiety. Once, I went to my mother opened my mouth but nothing came out. It physically hurts to blurt out a word.
I have always been a fan of words, and sometimes I wish I wasn't. I hide behind metaphors and in ballads to mask the eulogy i have already written and memorized for my death. Turns out the monster dressed in red, was my own thoughts and I was holding the trigger.