Can it really be put into words? Probably not. Yet here I am trying. Erase. Try again. Erase. Try again. Over and over.
My body is so overwhelming exhausted. I look at my screen, and my eyes are drifting. Yet the moment I put everything down, the shadows come back. They always come back. They are most likely a figment of my imagination, but they are still real to me. They keep me awake, jolting my fears again and again and again. Lights on, no good. Lights off, no good.
The few hours I get rest, they call me lazy because it just so happens to fall into a different pattern than theirs.
They give me medications to help with the fears, but those same meds keep my lying here awake, and afraid. They call them psychotic medications. They call them my key to normal functionality. Yet I find it still so hard to function.
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