I once said that I've learned how to keep myself from hurting and tormenting others by staying alone.
Should've listened to my own advice. There's no use in groaning and howling like a wounded beast when the pretty little butterfly is already crunched under the very hands that belong to me.
Not true of the world, but my mind is watching it in slow motion anyway. Dead leaves have almost stopped mid way: they're floating in the air. I can't move fast either, fast has turned impossible. So is the keen mind. As if walking on ice, my mind moves too cautiously, too slowly for me to track its movements. What is happening? How did I end up thus mesmerized? Last I remember I was entertaining the idea that life awaits me. Years and years are waiting ahead. Goodness, why does it sound so terrifying? Frozen in fear, I hear their footsteps closing in on me, ready to attack any moment. I know that I must be strong if I want to endure life, if I want to reach anything, anywhere, anyone, if I want to survive. I know that I need a muscular body to take all those hits from years to come. I know that I must have a low pitch voice, a bit husky, a bit coercive, in order to be taken seriously. I know that all would end in ruins if I don't have faith in my own strength, if I can't emotionally lean on my own shoulders. I'm the only one who can stand up for me, and I feel all weak, all beaten up.
I think. I constantly think. That's a burden. I need a quiet place to rest. A place where I can't hear my own mind thinking, my own heart feeling.
There's more but I shouldn't tell.