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Renata Jackson May 2015
It's like dashing back inside, at night, with no shoes on because you needed your flashlight out of the car for the sleep over. Terrified of what might be behind you.

It's the same feeling you get in your chest when you're startled at the movies with Jacob and Vesha because the psychopath gets his **** on screen.

It's the same as that time you got that twinge in your chest and your eyes began to well up (DON'T CRY), like they did when you watched that unbearably dramatic scene at the end of "The Fox and the Hound" when you were six.

And then after enduring these strange physical reactions, your mind starts to run in overdrive, yet making no progress, like when you were stunted on that mathematical portion of the standardized state test you had to take in the eighth grade. Signals are firing in your head, making instantaneous connections and all the while making the physical anomalies worse.

So, why is this so unbearable? When all of the other instances of similar, emotional toils were tolerable.

It's within my existence. It's not a script, it isn't my imagination, and it isn't school work. This is an internal conflict caused by the actions and decisions made externally.

Reach in, deeper than the skin, deeper than the rib cage, deeper than the heart and closer to the soul. Then, pull this desperation out of me and keep it far, far out of my sight.

— The End —