Bind

Gnarled postures glance across the empty canvas of a dimly lit wall. I close my eyes, hoping that the black of my mind would protect my consciousness from what was being crafted before me. I could only hear now. Rapid breathing, acid lancing through my throat as the bile threatened to enter the room around me. I know I’m shaking but I can only feel the absence of sensations rather than the sensations themselves.
It was here.
I can’t do anything can I? I can’t see. I can’t focus.
How did I let myself get to this point? Why didn’t I just turn around and let the imagery that everyone so wholeheartedly took in, sweep me into the rest of my life rather than knowing what else lay beyond the curtain of this endless theater?
It was too late, of that I was hopelessly aware.
My eyes began to burn at the edges.
It was forcing its way through my mind. I wanted to let it go, to release this wall I had built. It was heavy… it hurt.
Icy mercury leaked into my sinuses as the burning continued, my vision, hearing, even my sense of taste and smell were turning.
It was winning.
How long could I hold out? What good would it do for me to resist when I knew I couldn’t win?
I can’t take it.
Too much pressure.
My mind shook and heaved under the weight.
It would break.
I knew it would.