Saturday 29 January 22
Scattered all over the place, each of my body parts feels a distinct contrasting sensation. It's been devastatingly hard to put a sentence together, as if my mind doesn't belong to me any more. Shameful, dull, penetrative feelings don't leave me. Like a kite's string I fly loose but never free, even so not belonging to any child's hands. I recall vividly the decision I made to cut all ties. Yet why am I still lingering with a knife in my hands? Why am I petrified in the face of this dark empty cave? Silly question. I am no longer in possession of my old self. Some sort of monster is building up in my in my insides, screeching and scratching. I need it out before I sound like him more than I already do.