I may be losing it. Yes, the possibility looms like stretched shadows in the night dancing this way and that, fueled by the flicker of a candle flame. Even if I don't want to face it, the edges of those flames infiltrate each crevice so there is no avoiding it.
I don't think I can feel my chest. I can feel the tightness and the restriction of breath, but that is all. It's almost as if I am inadvertantly curling in upon myself like a parched leaf.
The thoughts are not coming right either. They come, but they can't quite make it out of my mouth, leaving me sounding more disjointed than I'd like and possibly like I have been shorted a chromosome.
Doubts are flooding. Decisions are questioned. Everything is wrong. I'm getting edgy. This is usually the part where I start pushing people away (or downright pissing them off) because I don't know what to hold on to - what is real and what is exaggerated in my mind. I never intend to treat anyone that way, but considering what they could experience if they stick around, it is the kinder option. Who ever figured that being nasty to someone could actually be a way to protect them from more harm by walking straight into the lair of the beast?
This began last night. I hope it is not the beginning of another manic episode. These are wearing me out. Last time the episode was harmlessly saturated with Johnny Depp... this time it feels more like it has the potential to be punctuated with seething glares, scathing comments and a few kicks to the groin. Or the head. I'm not particular.
Maybe you can all get together and send me calming thoughts to help me get out of this in one piece. If not, I'll know... and kicks to the head may ensue.
The Beast
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