LavĂnia
plalace
- Feb 19, 2024
- 167
My mind has been stable lately. I'm on vacation, so I've been spending more time at home.
My neighborhood is more dangerous than I remembered, and a feeling of insecurity and paranoia has started to creep up on me. My mother had surgery, so I haven't been sleeping very well, and I'm dedicating my entire day to her.
Because of the paranoia, when I close the front door, I grip the key tightly. I feel like I can't turn it for a few seconds, then I try to open it. I confirm that I've locked it, open it, and close it again. I repeat like five times, maintaining pressure once the key has been turned to imprint the sensation on my hand and be certain.
I'm having flashes of fear, when I'm in a situation and the worst-case scenario happens. I help my mother get up, and the still-healing cut on her stomach opens, and her insides spill out. While I'm sleeping, they climb over the wall and break in, and I can't defend myself, even with a knife near the bed. Listening to a story about my grandmother, someone cuts off her head while I can't move. I'm stabbed in the street. The pressure cooker with the vegetables explodes and burns my body. My nose starts bleeding; I didn't know I had a brain tumor. I drown myself in water and writhe on the floor. In my sleep, I say things I shouldn't, I expose secrets and insecurities; I have no secrets anymore.
I've had these flashes a lot, without forcing my imagination like I usually do; it's like a reminder. I don't feel sad or unmotivated; it's as if some strings I was holding on to lose their strength, and so I keep looking at them, but it's different than pulling again.
I feel like it's a problem, but overall I'm fine. I think I can go back to work on Monday and push myself. I smile, but I can push harder.
My neighborhood is more dangerous than I remembered, and a feeling of insecurity and paranoia has started to creep up on me. My mother had surgery, so I haven't been sleeping very well, and I'm dedicating my entire day to her.
Because of the paranoia, when I close the front door, I grip the key tightly. I feel like I can't turn it for a few seconds, then I try to open it. I confirm that I've locked it, open it, and close it again. I repeat like five times, maintaining pressure once the key has been turned to imprint the sensation on my hand and be certain.
I'm having flashes of fear, when I'm in a situation and the worst-case scenario happens. I help my mother get up, and the still-healing cut on her stomach opens, and her insides spill out. While I'm sleeping, they climb over the wall and break in, and I can't defend myself, even with a knife near the bed. Listening to a story about my grandmother, someone cuts off her head while I can't move. I'm stabbed in the street. The pressure cooker with the vegetables explodes and burns my body. My nose starts bleeding; I didn't know I had a brain tumor. I drown myself in water and writhe on the floor. In my sleep, I say things I shouldn't, I expose secrets and insecurities; I have no secrets anymore.
I've had these flashes a lot, without forcing my imagination like I usually do; it's like a reminder. I don't feel sad or unmotivated; it's as if some strings I was holding on to lose their strength, and so I keep looking at them, but it's different than pulling again.
I feel like it's a problem, but overall I'm fine. I think I can go back to work on Monday and push myself. I smile, but I can push harder.
