terrimcghee
Silence whips through her hair, stings her eyes, chills her core. It deafens her. She grasps her head between her hands and screams until stillness comes to save her.
Trying to determine the meaning of existence is like trying to take a photograph of the camera - it's just not the point.
Soft voices creep from the shadows outside of the streetlamp's reach. I breathe, I brace and I wait. Of course, it's only the usual suspects.
My phone is my modem, my entertainment, my camera, my protection, my connection. My phone has saved my life.
Opportunities pass me by before I can harness them. There a people in the world who would give anything for my life, my health, my moments of happiness. And it's wasted on me, because I can't see through ... I can't even think through whatever is infecting me. I want to scream. I want to never speak again. I want to be locked away and I want more than anything for no one to understand, because I'd never wish this on anyone else. I am the one under harness and the only thing I can think of that might be worse is if I were free.