Doors

It is in so many ways like a flower that is afraid of the sun. What do the innards look like? Are the colors ugly? The risk is too great! I must hide myself, lest the world see the garish truth and the clashing petals. It is in this way that I become a frigid thing, locked away inside many rooms. I pace the floors and I know these tiles so well that my mind begins to believe that I have imagined the ones before them. I can still recall the scent of her perfume. I close that door.
Running, I find that I am lost among many memories, and that another has been stripped from me; no matter how many frames I beat upon, it is gone, gone, gone.

Blood

Tonight I will trace the lines upon the ceiling. Perhaps they will lead me somewhere.
Answers could be hidden anywhere. Absolution is another thing entirely. It is a completely different animal, one that I don't want to dwell on for too long, for fear that my own sobs and sighs will
awaken things that are best left forgotten. Instead I consider adding another line to those I already possess: ones that remind me, day after day, that there is nothing in life that comes without a price. I wonder how hefty a bounty this mistake of mine will fetch. In my mind's eye, I can see bruises blooming, and my tongue remembers the taste of blood.
It does not seem like enough.

Paranoia

My purpose in writing now is the same as it has always been: to keep myself in a sane state of mind. Now, the problem with jotting down every little detail of my insanity is that madness, in and of itself, is something that tends to spread, the more people talk about it. The fact that I am able to understand and empathize with the often frightening, disorienting, and delusional paranoia that accompanies insanity makes me think twice about doing such a thing. You know, for your sake.

But there's a catch, of course. Staying completely silent, both in tongue and in pen, means that my own mental claustrophobia can set in at any point. That's not good. Hitting that stage sends my mind into a panicked sort of place, where confusion reigns above every sensible, rational emotion, and my perception is skewed and often chaotic in its conclusions. Do you know what I am saying? I lose control. Nothing I do, say, think, feel is a decision on my part. I become something completely unrecognizable to myself. And, coincidentally, so does the rest of the world.