The Puppet Master


I'm used to the feeling of knotted strings waking me up.

I guess I move too much when I sleep.

I guess they just get tangled.

Nighttime is the only time I can move.

That's when the puppet master is sleeping.


The strings are really tight.

They always bruise me.

Sometimes I can ignore the pain.

Sometimes I think I'm ok.

But it's only sometimes.


The strings tighten again after a while.

The puppet master comes back after a while.

That's the thing about anxiety:

it creeps up on you.

And it never leaves.


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