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Neurons firing
randomly, like suicidal lightning bugs, driving with their feet stuck on the
pedal, racing for the edge of the world. Don’t tell me I don’t know crazy.
There are lots of ways to go crazy, and I’ve walked down all of those lines.
People look at me like I’m some sort of mutant, crawled up from the dark, bubbling marshes, here to infiltrate and
contaminate their perfect, limited lives. I see you. All of you, floating
around in your safe little bubbles, just waiting to be popped and injected with
cold, black sludge, until your insides feel like their floating in the empty
void of deep space and the Milky Way stretches between your navel and your
appendix. I’m still trying to find the last half of my liver and the lower
portion of my right lung. I think they’re lost in the Hourglass Nebulae
somewhere. Hopefully they’ve found each other some how and are floating around
together. My liver’d be lonely otherwise. Sometimes I wish that I was out there
with them. Then I wouldn’t be alone either.
Instead I’m stuck
here, inside a circular room, and they’ve told me to sit in the corner. I’m
pretty sure the room is located on the end of a telescope and someone is trying
to adjust it, because it keeps getting smaller and smaller. Sometimes there are
shadows, shaped like people or doors or trees. But they’re never there when I
look straight at them. The walls are like marshmallows. They taste like
marshmallows, but they feel like rocks in my tummy. It’s comfortable here,
except on laundry days when they throw my marshmallow room into the dryer and
put it on tumble. I hate laundry days. It washes away all the pretty words on
my marshmallow walls. The words say “crazy, insane, batty, loony, lost.” They
remind me of who I am. Who are you?
~~~~~~~~~~~
So there you have it! Until next time!
~Becca
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