This is an inside look at someone who is going through a dissociative state. The thoughts are scattered and you will see various internal conversations. I wrote this many years ago and found it today on my computer. Today, I am no longer dissociative but I am amazed at what I wrote. I titled it Wires On a Bomb so I will leave it that way. #mental illness #dissociative #did
Here it is:
Here it is:
Jittery, moving about ever so slight but it does not need much to explode.
Can I figure out which wires to remove before its too late? Do I dare to try? No matter what I do--except to enter a catatonic freeze--will increase the possibility, the odds of its blast.
So what does one do? Twisted, fragile, so not wanting to be at this moment, this point in time, this crisis ---again, again and again.
Seconds feel like hours, and hours prolong like days...especially if you pause, to pray or gain some kind of controllable ease.
I speak, and what comes out is sweet and kind---the way I like to be. Interact, exchange, and the responses I receive don't resonate like love, interest or concern. I feel like a blemish that needs to be removed.
Odd, cold, weird. Out of place.