More, more, more…(Trigger Warning)

I feel like a life sentence has been given to me.  My crime?  Being alive.  My prison?  My own head.  A life tainted by that persistent filter that is projected from my brain and coats reality from the inside.  So that, when I touch life, I touch the filter.  And when I scream, it reverberates through the prison of my head but never makes it to the outside, so who is to know that I am screaming? And so, who will care?

Oh, how I scream.  How I feel the pain that emanates from my being, that starts from my core and spreads outward in sharp, continuous waves.  A veritable earthquake that shatters and shatters and shatters.  It is relentless.  And oh, how I crumple, how I plead, how I break.  Over and over.  I break.  Thus, I cannot look inward.  I am met with a pain that I have tried and tried to feel physically.  Harming myself obsessively in the hopes that I heal, and maybe, my head can heal.  There are no sensibilities when desperation takes hold.  And it has taken hold.  Desperation fuels the obsession; on and on it goes.  Have I caused enough damage?  Maybe a little longer, maybe a little deeper, maybe a little more.  When is enough?  Will there ever be an enough?

Then snap.  The emotions disconnect from the body.  I retain my knowledge.  I know I feel pain, but I know it only, I do not feel it.  As if anaesthetized but weak; knowing of the weakness and having to accommodate for it.  The basic thought process is still there, longer, deeper and more.  More, more, more.  This is the only way.  Obsession.  Compulsion. I have to, it is the only way, it must be.  I have to somehow cut through that filter.  It harms me but I do not care.  I care only of my prison of pain, and while that pain cannot be felt, I should work on getting rid of it.  I could get rid of myself, or I could get rid of that filter.  Are they one and the same?  Longer, deeper, more.

I shift my focus, move out of my body, let it do what it does, it has its instructions.   I circle around my body, testing the circumference of my freedom as provided to me by this cell, this barrier.  Provided to me by my mind.  I wonder…at what cost will this barrier disappear?  Will I pay it, and will freedom be mine?  Or is the payment my life and the resulting freedom an illusion that disappears at the end of it?  How it teases me, gets smaller and smaller on days that I feel the most, morphs to my form, encompasses me; almost suffocates me.  Allows just enough air for me to know how much pain I can feel.  I try to breathe deeper and deeper, I know I want to live, it makes me know I want to live, oh how I want to live, if it would just let me breathe.

Then crash.  My brain pummels through that barrier and crashes into my head and I feel again.  I feel how my chest heaves because I want air, and I am desperate again.  If I cut through this barrier, I can breathe again.  Let me breathe.  Give me space, give me air, give me connection, give me peace.  Please, give me my life. Please give me my life.

Am I losing my mind?  Have I already lost it?  Am I real? I can feel pain, I can feel anguish, I can feel torture, but what else?  Can I feel anything else?  Am I only part of a whole?  I can see, sure, I can see. But…what do I see?  I see this barrier, I see what my brain tells me to see, and I am seeing so much.  So much that is on the inside of it, that I am sure, that I hope is not on the outside.  The monsters, the illusions, the trickery my brain likes to play out…the walls do not creep with colour, I’m sure of it.  I do not walk amongst monsters, they are not real not to the real world, only to me.  The people are real, the people are tangible…though, are they?  You can’t feel them, you can’t touch them.  You have no memory of it.  Do they feel you?  They cannot hear you.  Can they see you through this filter?  Through your Hell; can they see you through your Hell?  They must not be able to, because why do they not help?  Are they real?  Am I real?  I can’t tell anymore, I just can’t tell.  Who out there is real, who am I imagining?  All of you?  What if I am paying in blood and pain for freedom in a reality that is unreal?  A mirage.  I am so lost.

I cannot breathe, I cannot breathe.  I simply cannot breathe.  What if I just stopped breathing?  Longer, deeper, more.  Out of my head and out of this barrier; out of my Hell.  Longer, deeper, more.  More, more, more.



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