Escaping my thoughts

“Illness is a story told in the past tense.”

― John Green, Turtles All the Way Down

 

The following is a part of my “emotional diary” from a few years ago. At the time I didn’t know what OCD was, or that I had this condition. So uncontrollable thoughts would throw me into a deep desperation:

 

My foggy brain clings onto only ugliness

A harsh self-critic, I curse myself

I’m falling apart under the solid pressure of an indefinable force

I crawl back into the familiar but it pushes me back viciously

The spinning spiral has my bones broken and crumbled

My hand reaches out for the fleeting silhouette of an escape

But it fades away

Like smoke that gracefully dances in the air

In a blink, there are no more traces

Just me

Shattered

Scattered

 

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