I am sure that I’m not designed for this world.
I don’t feel well. Mentally. Today was OK, but I just don’t feel right. Thoughts niggling away. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s all wrong and there’s nothing I can do to change it. Tomorrow the world goes on and I shouldn’t be here. This world is eating the life from me and then I feel empty. It’s trying to eat me, the world is trying to eat me. Things will never feel OK and even when they do it will be a lie, papering over the cracks until it is time to eat me, but still the world won’t explode and take me away with it.
I can’t even run. There is nowhere to run to. I’ve always wanted to run but I don’t know where I’m going. The sky is falling down around me, I need hooks and ropes to hold me up, anchors to hold me down and stop me blowing away in the storm. And still I live on even if I don’t want to be here. Why is it so unfair? I never asked to be born. The monsters inside consume all the feelings like birds eating worms from their muddy holes amongst the dew drop topped grass in the morning.
I can’t even find the strength to draw. No, I’m not tired, I just can’t see. I look but I can’t see. My eyes are open and the things are there but there is no connection to my brain. My hand does not connect. It does not want to draw, it can’t remember how to make the movements.
I swallowed the universe again and it is too big to hold in my throat. I could scream and let it all out but then everyone would know. Take it out, take me home, let me sleep.
We know what is coming. There is a storm. There is nowhere for us to run and hide except deeper in our mind. This is the point where we cross over and the expression changes.
We were not bred for this world. We belong somewhere else.