Fading

My mind is a ball of twine. Twisted up, wound tightly, with each thought hard to follow like the string connecting from one point to the next. Each piece bouncing from one side to the other, weaving in and out, overlapping. Anger boils inside like water splashing up over the edge of a pot, stopping only as it hits the stove and quickly burns up into steam. The days are long, nights even longer. Plunging into the depths of depression, as the dark consumes me. Shaking. Night after night awake i...

12 July 2016, 05:29 AM
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