He is doing a new thing

I don’t know where the darkness ends and I begin. There is a heaviness that seems to trump my senses. Heavy laden, made of molten lava that drifts through my veins, through my body, slowing me down.




What did you say?

I blink and I can hardly make out who is in front of me. Someone I used to know. Someone I recognize? That voice? That husky tone stirs something in my stomach. I know that voice – surely I know it –

And then the heaviness swoops in again, shutting out any thoughts. The thoughts. It’s so nice to have them still for a moment. For awhile it felt like we were on a five-lane highway and every thought kept zooming down multiple lanes, colliding with others, shattering debris into the next one, until I could no longer keep focus on what I was thinking about.

That’s what its been like lately. I smile and nod, and pretend its okay.

The mask comes out when it needs to come out. But here I am, home alone, waiting to meet with a friend, and trying to leak the darkness out of me by writing. To try and drip it out, drop by drop, even if it is painstakingly slow.


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