The White Rabbit

    I grow more and more detached each day. The shade from my mental issues reaches further each day. As the days grow longer, the darkness becomes too bright, saturating the landscape of my mind like a sunrise of nettles. The days are sometimes too much to even face; I force myself into a mode of contentment. Staring at a faceless mass in the mirror, not knowing who I am anymore. This shell of mine walks through time like a snail in a salt factory, making some days totally unbearable and believable.

    Is this really our reality? Multiple times a day, I feel a blanket of anxiety, seeing shadows and figures that I’ve been told are not there—sounds and words from the darkest corners of my mind blaring over a loudspeaker.

    I have been noticing my days elongating, stretching the fabric of time until something tears. Usually, my mind shreds to fibers realizing this. My perception of time begins to be panic-inducing, breaking my psyche when I realize I'm on the same day from three days ago, prolonging my torture and amplifying my anxiety. Taking prescription medications for hallucinations and panic attacks only adds side effects at this point. Nausea and vomiting in the morning every day from not being able to sleep past 4 AM puts me in a great mood to start the day, drained of all energy and will to put effort into my day.

    
    With this cursed perspective of time, I have started to notice the overlaps in my perception and reality—code overwritten because there is too much information for reality to process. This has given me the sensation of being watched or in a simulation, somewhat like The Truman Show, noticing things that are too coincidental. Like a computer program that only has a finite amount of memory to operate its systems on, information will be replicated and utilized for blank space. I really try not to follow the white rabbit, but sometimes Wonderland is better than reality.