The taste of bitterness in the air, so thick it settles on your skin—a film of filth and ferment that irradiates the body. Special equipment and safety precautions must be taken in order to not be infected fully. This taste in the mouth is vile, only gets more repugnant. My days will flip constantly, hours to hours. The back and forth is exhausting and not sustainable. For the first time, I feel like I am unable to maintain the unscheduled frenzy of emotions and the physical stress that accompanies.
There have been times in the past where I have been disassociated for large quantities of the calendar. Pretending to maintain a daily face and façade just to be content in being. That feeling of contentment has slipped away in the recent future. Planning to be around longer than just “today” was never something at the forefront of my thoughts. Always barely coping with the current of madness running through my mind. Struggling to think about what the next day would bring, let alone the rest of my life. My closest friend growing up would often call me neurotic, and he probably wasn’t wrong. Realizing I still constantly dip into that cold pool of neurosis.
The constant fight-or-flight feeling has begun to become the norm for my mental state. Unable to escape the daily fatigue of current events and societal decline. I have been told to avoid things that stress me out—a difficult task to accomplish in the information age. My brain will play tricks to keep me from slipping into that well of dark thoughts; usually, a hallucination of someone breathing down my neck will do the trick. The times that I am unable to snap myself out usually end with hours of missing time; this can happen multiple times a day.
Imagine a rough edit cut of your daily memory—just quick glimpses of seconds that have black between. This can be irritating, debilitating, and also potentially harmful. When time lapses come, I will feel like a drone being piloted by myself but from behind my body. Physically observing myself from an over-the-shoulder or overhead view. My movements are always behind in time, slower to react to stimuli and senses—almost as if my body and mind are not chronologically aligned.
This phase shift between my consciousness and my body is an out-of-control sensation. Unable to “snap out of it,” it continues to get longer with every experience. The lost time makes days impossible to schedule and maintain a routine. Making me paranoid of things that may or may not happen, always on my toes, always feeling on thin ice.
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