It starts as a small rumble. Like my stomach telling me I'm hungry. But it's not from my stomach. It's from my brain.
My brain is telling my fingers to tap and my toes to curl. It's telling my mouth to shut itself tight. It's telling my eyes to cry and my hands to ball into fists.
The room begins to spin and shake and everything becomes distorted. Most people don't realize ive grown quieter. They think everything is fine. And everything should be fine. Why are they not fine? Why am I not fine? What's wrong with me?
And my mind shows me images and depression whispers thoughts in my ear as it's dark fingers wrap around my skull.
The attack happens. I'm suddenly thrown to my feet and am dashing out the room with my hand over my mouth and my pencils falling out of my pockets.
I find a quiet place.
I collapse.
And I cry.
YOU ARE READING
A suspiciously odd amount of Short Stories.
De TodoHere's some stories that are small, may not have a beginning. May not have an ending. But they are what they are. Deal with it I guess. "//" - Super short writing bits. ">><<" - Short Stories.
