The Rusted Needle

I’m sowing my brain with the rusted needle as it has been ripped to shreds. I’m unable to open my eyes because I’m scared of what I might see. I still have an image stuck in my head of people spitting at me hateful comments. It’s hard when you don’t resemble the beauty icon with flawless complexion and lengthy lower limbs. I can hear a ripple of laughter running through the surrounding me crowd. I’m scared of dying but at the same time I wish to be gone. The uncertainty of the afterlife is keeping me alive but for how long? I don’t want my dreams to fade into oblivion therefore I pledge to fight my demons until I fall apart from exhaustion.

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Hell in the Morning

Have you ever had this feeling of paralysing hatred of life in the morning, when you wake up and you realise that you have so much to do and so little time to yourself. I have it now and then; I open my eyes feeling good and rested, I glance at the bedroom’s blinds and then the lighting of reality strikes me. I can hear this hollow scream inside me, my inner voice is urging my brain to scan all the available excuses to retreat myself from the upcoming hell. I usually have few justifications, which I keep in my imaginary pocket for real human-mental-kind emergencies. I barely use them but when I do they are worth a special prize. I like having my weekly- daily diary full but sometimes I miss freedom of having no obligations or responsibilities. I think everybody does that, or maybe it’s only me. When I feel overwhelmed I take time off (within limits off course, as according to a walnut inside my head I cannot allow myself to become a walking failure, and the constant avoidance of difficulties would definitely lead to it, so I push myself as much as I can). When I take a break from my daily routine I go to the park, listen to the sounds, look at the colours around me, exhale and inhale still polluted air and look for a place to create a home away from the civilisation.