LJ Idol Week 3: Brushback Pitch
Dec. 15th, 2016 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i_love_freddieDarkness closing in... lights flash and colours swirl. Faces peer from the walls, mouths open and closing. I look away and they are gone. They whisper but I can barely hear the words. Taunting... teasing...
I see things; random things. A tree where there shouldn't be one. A spider, crawling over my skin. A shadow, a person standing in the corner of my room, hovering over me at night.
I look in the mirror and see a face that is not my own. My hands look odd, strange, as though they belong to someone else. Blood trickles down my arm - I can feel the warmth.
Time moves too fast; or stands still. Minutes feel like seconds, whole days disappear in a flash. Evenings drag on, eternal.
Being outside is hard. People are looking - are they whispering about me? Reading my thoughts? It feels as though everyone is out to get me, hurt me. I don't know who can be trusted, who might be lying.
What is truth? I have no idea what is real and what is in my head. I am trapped in a nightmarish reality - but is it a nightmare of my own creation?
Or just reality?
(Footnote: The prompt is very loose with this one, but this is my reality at the moment, the reality of the struggle with active psychosis with no professional support)
I see things; random things. A tree where there shouldn't be one. A spider, crawling over my skin. A shadow, a person standing in the corner of my room, hovering over me at night.
I look in the mirror and see a face that is not my own. My hands look odd, strange, as though they belong to someone else. Blood trickles down my arm - I can feel the warmth.
Time moves too fast; or stands still. Minutes feel like seconds, whole days disappear in a flash. Evenings drag on, eternal.
Being outside is hard. People are looking - are they whispering about me? Reading my thoughts? It feels as though everyone is out to get me, hurt me. I don't know who can be trusted, who might be lying.
What is truth? I have no idea what is real and what is in my head. I am trapped in a nightmarish reality - but is it a nightmare of my own creation?
Or just reality?
(Footnote: The prompt is very loose with this one, but this is my reality at the moment, the reality of the struggle with active psychosis with no professional support)
