on livejournal : so you want me to come over?
i woke up this morning feeling so low.
there's something in my head.it's there and i can feel it. Alike a bug,
crawling inside my head. It's tripping and trippling itself. It fades
sometimes. It's not a real "fading"... it crawls out of my head. A
hurtful crawling. It's not better during the time it's inside my
brains.
I think i wrote down that depression is like a cat because i read it somewhere ( most likely Plath or Wurtzel... ).
It really isn't.
It's much more gross. You can't pet it either. It's too slippery, too uneven and rough with stains on it and dirt all over.
It's a big black bug. A shiny one, real fast. Making tickly noises when it rushes over my blood streams.
It leaves it's rotten, dirty babies inside me. They flood my blood. My
brain sends them off and then they're there. Everywhere. They make me
lose my sexuality. They're inside my hips, making me walk like a troll.
Inside the veins of my back, exploding in masses inside me. When they
die they rot inside me. They slowly die, drowning by the lack of oxygen
inside my blood. Their mother has dropped them inside me with full
knowledge of them dying. That's exactly how depression is.
& while her kids are dying the bug itself flees out of my head. I
can't quite make out where she leaves my body but she does. It creeps
out of me and it hurts me, physically.
The issue with depression is that people think it's something mental.
When really, it's physical. Raw flesh and cut open bodies. The pain is
there, your body is spread widely open. It's a very low dose of pain at
first but because the babies are everywhere in my blood stream the pain
is everywhere aswell.It's in my feet and my throat especially. There's
no sound coming out and no food coming in anymore. It's all locked up
with millions of shiny, black bugs trying to escape the drowing flood
of that is me.
"I'm a fountain of blood in the shape of a woman" , i really am. And i'm infected. All there is to me is blood. And it's infected.
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