There is something spawning in me. It surely has limbs as sometimes it throws in punches and kicks. This has got me thinking for as long as I can remember. The thoughts are a rushed litter of puppies, knocking me down as I halt to adore their sweet profiles. I travel towards my paradise, but by the time, I forget the stimulus that brought me there in the first place. I look at my likeness in the shards of glass to see that a dark-shaded entity has taken over the hollows of my eyes. Is Hypnos not interested in me anymore? I feel like I was in his arms last night, but nothing proves the same. Maybe it was a dream, but I don’t sleep with my eyes open. Am I me? It seems like the most unlikeliest of things to worry about. Anxiety starts cooking meth in my newly powered brain until random rhapsodies lure me back to a duplicated version of myself.
There are luminous days, or so we think. Darkness seeps in through the corners quite suddenly. Medications help, but the sleepiness makes it impossible to function properly. Some days, I can’t get up from bed. I might have set goals for the day, but it might seem pretty far off. The experience of floating outside of one’s body is real. It is feeling your own deterioration with helpless skin. Serotonin evades me, and the struggle is real. It is similar to a broken leg, but you would not ask the people with the broken leg to walk. But you would ask that of a mentally ill person because the mind is seen to be more flexible and adaptable to day-to-day pressures, which it is not. It's watching your friends and family watch you suffer, which indirectly makes them suffer and increases our suffering. It is cloudiness in the head which drains away your concentration. It also erases memory. Huge chunks of information are lost, and some might not even be registered. The person slowly loses themself.
Being kind does not come with a price. You would be surprised to discover the battles that people fight on a daily basis.