This time it was simple really.
Washing my face, I imagined a scenario.
In it, I was a doctor trying to tell a patient the were dying, as a last ditch effort to let her gain some way of controlling her psychotic behavior.
She herself was so tortured, that even after being put in a straitjacket, she never stopped trying to harm anything, even herself. She would put all the weight on a leg or a foot, and slowly kill it by blocking blood flow.
And a plan was devised: numb her entire body from the neck and down, and tell her she's dying.
That's when I decided to switch places with her. After all, this girl is in my head, but eventually, I would be laying in the same spot; the numbness would be old age, and the threat of death would be real.
That scared me so much.
I hyperventilated.
I still am.I still was.
But again, it seems I still afraid of death. Or maybe it's something else, like the unknown, or a lack of control. But it just doesn't feel right... and I can't stop it coming.
I need someone.Someone to tell me it fine.Someone to hold me close and share their most deepest fears.Someone who won't question my tastes, or laugh at my insecurities.Someone who will be by my side, forever, without question.I need a hug, and a friend. A true friend.
YOU ARE READING
Abstraction
Non-Fiction[Started on: June 14, 2022] This is an abstraction of real thoughts. My thoughts. Every time I feel harsh worry, dread, or fear, I will write; I will write right here. Those who want to read about another's poetry, go ahead, but I can't promise...
