Standing alone, the isolation peels away at your sanity. It leaves the thoughts inside your head feeling more and more intrusive, telling you things you don't want to hear and convincing you of things you could never agree with. Your sanity is stripped away until the only thing left is your broken mind that seems irrecoverable.
Stepping into the grocery store, I didn't expect so many people to be flooding the aisles. Pushing the cart before me felt like a mass empty space that forced uncomfortable maneuvering and tight spots and awkward moments between others. The feeling of being in here was uncomfortable to say the least.
With every person I passed by, and made uncomfortable eye contact with, it only made my anxiety sky rocket, making me want to tear at my own flesh until I faded from existence. I could feel their thoughts burning in the back of my mind, calling me profanities and feeling repulsed by me.
Just being in this store made me walk stiffer, as to not draw a lot of attention to myself. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and my face growing hot. I just need to grab my stuff and get out of here, I thought. I'll be gone and no longer have to reflect on this feeling.
After grabbing my stuff, I uncomfortably walked over to the checkout line. I was so thankful that nobody was in line. There would be no uncomfortable standing awkwardly, awaiting my turn.
The cashier asked me how I was doing and all I could muster as she scanned my items was, "Not too bad, how about yourself?" I could hear the shakiness in my voice as I spoke. I listened to her tell me a little about her day. I was tuning her out as I took out my card and slipped it into the chip reader.
I paid for my stuff and hurried out of there with my stuff. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Even though I was away from the anxiety inducing situation of walking around a busy grocery store, there was one more hurtle I had to jump through, making my way to my car through the busy parking lot.
The challenge wasn't too difficult. I simply spotted my car and paid nobody any mind. I walked closer to the cars parked, as to avoid getting run over by impatient drivers.
Finally, I got in the car and headed home. I'll spare you the details of driving, which ironically, I wasn't anxious about at all.
After I got home and unpacked all of the things I bought, I made my way to my room. I was excited, as I had bought the perfect thing for myself, a journal. I bought a journal because my interest in writing horror had just recently peaked as I read a new scary series in the past few days.
I had no idea what I was going to write about but I knew that after a few writes I would be ready for the big leagues as far as being an author goes. I searched and searched for a pen to write but was unable to find anything. I would have tried a computer to write but I was horrible at typing and I'm faster at writing.
After searching, I looked toward my window, believing I saw a person standing outside. It's pitch dark outside so it's difficult to make anything out, but I thought I saw the reflection of light off of someone's eyes.
I stepped outside in fear that someone might be watching me, but saw no one. The front and back sides of my house are completely flat, nothing there for someone to hide behind if someone was out there.
After going back inside, I locked my front and back doors and closed all the curtains before my windows.
I sat down before my journal. I was so upset about not having a writing utensil. I found myself wishing I could turn myself into the story, feeling my flesh melt into the individual letters and mix myself together to create a beautifully horrific tale.
I had an idea, a dark one, but an idea nonetheless. I grabbed a knife and brought it up to my fingertip. I pressed the blade hard against my flesh until I felt the sharp pain and a dribble of blood following. I aimed the blood toward a small cup and pressed my finger until no more blood would come out.
I grabbed a paper towel and rolled the end up to a point and dipped it in my blood, feeling a shot of indescribable pleasure with every word I wrote.
After I was out of blood, I drew more from each finger. Then my hand. Then my feet, then legs. I was determined to become this story, even if it killed me.
Stepping into the grocery store, I didn't expect so many people to be flooding the aisles. Pushing the cart before me felt like a mass empty space that forced uncomfortable maneuvering and tight spots and awkward moments between others. The feeling of being in here was uncomfortable to say the least.
With every person I passed by, and made uncomfortable eye contact with, it only made my anxiety sky rocket, making me want to tear at my own flesh until I faded from existence. I could feel their thoughts burning in the back of my mind, calling me profanities and feeling repulsed by me.
Just being in this store made me walk stiffer, as to not draw a lot of attention to myself. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and my face growing hot. I just need to grab my stuff and get out of here, I thought. I'll be gone and no longer have to reflect on this feeling.
After grabbing my stuff, I uncomfortably walked over to the checkout line. I was so thankful that nobody was in line. There would be no uncomfortable standing awkwardly, awaiting my turn.
The cashier asked me how I was doing and all I could muster as she scanned my items was, "Not too bad, how about yourself?" I could hear the shakiness in my voice as I spoke. I listened to her tell me a little about her day. I was tuning her out as I took out my card and slipped it into the chip reader.
I paid for my stuff and hurried out of there with my stuff. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Even though I was away from the anxiety inducing situation of walking around a busy grocery store, there was one more hurtle I had to jump through, making my way to my car through the busy parking lot.
The challenge wasn't too difficult. I simply spotted my car and paid nobody any mind. I walked closer to the cars parked, as to avoid getting run over by impatient drivers.
Finally, I got in the car and headed home. I'll spare you the details of driving, which ironically, I wasn't anxious about at all.
After I got home and unpacked all of the things I bought, I made my way to my room. I was excited, as I had bought the perfect thing for myself, a journal. I bought a journal because my interest in writing horror had just recently peaked as I read a new scary series in the past few days.
I had no idea what I was going to write about but I knew that after a few writes I would be ready for the big leagues as far as being an author goes. I searched and searched for a pen to write but was unable to find anything. I would have tried a computer to write but I was horrible at typing and I'm faster at writing.
After searching, I looked toward my window, believing I saw a person standing outside. It's pitch dark outside so it's difficult to make anything out, but I thought I saw the reflection of light off of someone's eyes.
I stepped outside in fear that someone might be watching me, but saw no one. The front and back sides of my house are completely flat, nothing there for someone to hide behind if someone was out there.
After going back inside, I locked my front and back doors and closed all the curtains before my windows.
I sat down before my journal. I was so upset about not having a writing utensil. I found myself wishing I could turn myself into the story, feeling my flesh melt into the individual letters and mix myself together to create a beautifully horrific tale.
I had an idea, a dark one, but an idea nonetheless. I grabbed a knife and brought it up to my fingertip. I pressed the blade hard against my flesh until I felt the sharp pain and a dribble of blood following. I aimed the blood toward a small cup and pressed my finger until no more blood would come out.
I grabbed a paper towel and rolled the end up to a point and dipped it in my blood, feeling a shot of indescribable pleasure with every word I wrote.
After I was out of blood, I drew more from each finger. Then my hand. Then my feet, then legs. I was determined to become this story, even if it killed me.
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