Wednesday, March 20, 2013

It Wants Out

I can feel It... pacing, angry. It doesn't shout. It has no need to. It's presence is obvious. It wants out - out of my head, out of my body. Or perhaps It wants my body - It wants to remove everything else. I'm not sure. All I know is I can feel It, and it hurts. I lack control of every part of me - instead, It is in control.

It has me clawing at my own flesh in desperation - but is this desperation me trying to get rid of It, or It trying to escape? I can't tell. I don't know. I am so out of control, no matter for what purpose I claw. No matter for what purpose my fingernails scratch down my arms, at my chest, my neck - I know nothing other than that I am not controlling my trembling fingers.

I am not controlling anything. Not the voices hiding in the shadows. Not It. Not my hands. Not my heart.

Oh but how my heart cries out - or, my heart had cried out. Until It took over. I screamed for you. I begged you to rid me of this evil inside me. And yet it still resides and has grown. It has forced all that is good to cower in the recesses of my mind. It has forced my soul to grow dark, shutting out all light - all which is good within there will soon die of starvation.

But you, like those before you, chose to ignore the desperate crazy cries of the psychotic. Just faking, perhaps. Being silly. Hiding. Quite amazing, I must say, that the only way I can truly hide from people is to be myself. And yet, I'm not myself. Not any longer. It is me now. I lay bleeding, It still trapped within me, still angry. It has started to claw at me from the inside - evil talons slicing at my heart, my muscles, my ribs. Bright red patterns form upon my chest and arms and the drops of blood flow over me.

Still no release. No quiet. The other voices are still hushed, but speaking. Whispers. So many whispers, so many fearful faint cries. Be silent! Or be loud! Just please - too many voices, too many words, too incoherent.

It has taken over my sight now. Everything seen is tarnished, auras are mutating. Everything lovely is camouflaged, or perhaps no longer exists. It has changed it all. Why didn't you help me? What makes you think you are so much worthy than me? No! No, no no! These eyes, this soul. It has taken over. I am quickly becoming nothing - nothing but It.

And It wants out.

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