It's a strange thing to look inside yourself and see darkness, black oil bubbling with animal feathers floating, drowningΒ Β in the thick. I feel like a well, with nothing but depth with no one to pull me out, no rope to even hang myself with. When you sit in the darkness with wings too sticky to fly out you see faces and reflections that take your mind and stretch it into unrecognizable shapes. I am stuck in the oil of my compressed stress.