Hysterical murmurings reverberated through my hollow room, hollow eyes, hollow form. “Nonononononono..” I felt like I was decaying in sunlight, wilting in it’s glow. Maybe my freckles were somehow digging deeper into my skin, or maybe the room’s walls were searing off my make-believe flesh. I tugged frantically at my clothing, my precious cat cardigan, such an insignificant thing. I felt like I was pushing too much pressure into Earth’s floor. With standing a burden, my legs were weak and shivery, due to sensory overload. I disliked how my socked feet touched the floor, I disliked the way my movement disturbed the particles in the air around me, I disliked the way human speech sounded to my blank ears. My own voice was the enemy, and the noise …show more content…
He had taught me how to control myself, but with these tastics I had not allowed myself to feel any emotion at all. This conflicted my very function, my main performance in the mind. In other words, it was completely fucking me up.

I’m not sure if Logan realized this.

Someone might come in right now and tell me to let go or to hold back. Virgil could say let go, Logan could say hold back, just stop stop stop. My mouth tasted dry like frosted cookies. I didn’t want to sleep forever, I just wanted to sleep until I could choose when to wake up.

It’s strange to sit in my room absolutely abandoned, gagging tears away and steadily hyperventilating. I disliked the layout of my body, how my chest was expanding and shrinking, and how I stretched out my ankles again and again but not feeling any relief or satisfaction. Logan could walk in right now if he wanted to.

Maybe he wasn’t real. I already wasn’t, but maybe I was delusional and I just needed someone to talk to. Logan was just a paper cut-out of a hollow sketch stitched to my detached voice. Not real, but no one was. For a second, I wanted him to stroll in and throw more breathing exercises at me, tell me to focus on a pretty