When I write these words, when I let you have a glimpse of something unknown; something unknown to me, but living within my mind, my heart. It is not because I want you to understand or relate but, rather, because I have to get it out. What is it? It is a dark, overwhelming, excruciating inability to feel anything. It is addictive, it is destructively empowering, and it is arcane.
A myriad of experiences impacted me. I became intoxicated with pathological thought; like a blurry, disturbed lake water as someone has dropped a rock into. With violent ripples forming on the surface, the reflection on the water becomes distorted, and unlike normal water, the ripples never disappeared with time, and the water never became still and clear again. I was forever blurry, and the distortion everlasting.
But I do forget sometimes; I forget what it is like. Forgetting is a temporary sanctuary. And I do hope sometimes; I hope that someday something or someone will make that sanctuary a permanent one.