Bugs are crawling all over my hands; yet they're the kind only I can feel and see - the germs I visualise as cockroaches covering everything around me. A 3rd change of clothes in 5 hours to protect myself against their power to bring me harm, my umpteenth hand wash trying to get rid of them; my brain turbulent with alarm.
My head is noisy; full of chaotic sadness and voices, peculiar images and blurry characters are all I can see - not by choice. I cannot sleep or think let alone live, waiting for The End; I went mad with the battle so determinative.
Sitting on the shower floor with the water raining down on me more and more. A map of water induced wrinkles trace my skin as if by disguise, with a river I cannot stop running from my eyes; intoxicated with madness, these voices I need to **** - so with a bottle of ***** I wash down a pretty little pill.
Tonight I lay with just my teddy to hold dear; loneliness creeping in - no doubt, feeling like a child who just wants to be loved and cared about, wishing to be protected from the monsters inside my head as I bury myself under my covers and cry myself to sleep in bed.