"It" Makes Me Write

Mon, 07/11/2016 - 21:24 -- Bordley

I can't breathe.

'Let go!' I beseech.

It doesn't budge.

Its strong limbs just grip me tighter and tighter.

I can feel the strain throughout my entire body.

The pain emanates from my head and travels to my heart.

Every fiber of my being starts to break down.

I find that I can no longer talk,

or see,

or feel,

or hear.

 Its greedy mouth comes down and sucks the life from my very core.

The watchers see everything but perceive nothing.

 

I am an empty shell.

I have nothing left, but thoughts and ideas swirling around in my hollowed out mind.

 

A single idea finds a crack in my prison.

The little thought squeezes out into the open air.

Suddenly, I can see.

My thought wanders onto a blinding sheet of dazzling white paper.

Like a newborn babe to its mother, the idea snuggles in and relaxes.

Suddenly, I can feel.

I pick up the paper and examine the infant.

Suddenly, I can hear.

The though calls out for me nurture it and help it grow.

I oblige and begin to write.

I see it, the one with many limbs and a vast mouth, start to creep in on me.

I write on, faster and faster.

With each pen stroke, the creature shrinks in fear.

Suddenly, I can talk.

"Victory!" I shout.

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741