Eggshells
2004-04-10 2:51 p.m.

Sometimes at night, I can hear this wailing. It's a cat, a one that died years ago. Her absolutely hideous screech...often pulls me from shadows that try to consume me. Like the one tiny stream of light shining on a vultures eye, it somehow comforts me even thou it sets me at ill ease.

These shadows, these spirits...they pinch and bite and tease at me from a distance. Voices that swell and twist thru my ears, screaming and laughing so silently that one can hear the light flash past his eyes. Slowly compressing and pulling me, these little insecurities pollute my lungs. My skin tenses and itches with paranoia of everything around me. I sit alone in the dark, sobbing for the lack of the simple fucking ability to break outside this placebo.

Simple, simple, little matters...even day to day doubts multiply and stab into me. I have lost the ability to somehow break free of this second skin. I'm weak, worse than I have been in years. The frequent attacks, paranoia, depression, and day-to-day have crushed me. I've simply always been an eggshell; I crush with the slightest bit of weight. Some sort of world-weary nostalgia sings a off key tune into me; it serves to remind me of what I am, and what I am not.

So I wait at night for her howling, so I can drag myself out from under what threatens to crush me.

+==Destroy Once Done==+