its hard staring at the ceiling. i feel like its a misunderstood part of a house. you have windows to stare out of. walls to cover up all the lies. plastered in the rooms, in the bodies of the people inhabiting the rooms. their brains.
i have thoughts all the time. i bet you do too. i have so many thoughts. so many. when the world has crushed an beaten you, you either crack under the pressure or.. what? bleed fucking diamonds?
whats on those ceilings and what are they trying to tell me. the world, more so the wall, screams in my face. screams and cusses and spits all over my face. the noises, the death, the violence, the invasion of my only home which is my mind it is all thrown into my brain which is splattered, again, across the ceiling.
dont tell me the world doesnt think these things, i already know that.
the heat seeps out of my body and into the blankets and makes its way into the cool air. i wish i could properly thank air for separating me from the walls. what a kind thing to do.
the rising and falling of the chest besides me quickens.
i try to close my eyes. i feel eyes on me though, touching me. the sight of things you cant see drowning me in being seen. gazes touching every little bit of my body, which i did not consent to. while i feel eyes, i see things imprinted on my eyelids. death by guns, violence, blood. so much blood man, so much of it. and everywhere. "i am going to kill you" and why is everyone getting shot who put this in my head! someone help me! and the world is grey. can you see it? the picture im painting? im practically handing it to you, shoving it in your face. snarling hounds end my thoughts. i truly have barked up the wrong tree.
my clothes are too tight and the world is too big. too much. too everything. dont you think? wont you please agree with me.
kate grabs my thigh and screams. not like a blood curdling scream, not a "im getting murdered" (murdered?) scream. one of those oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, help me help please.
