|Part of Speech:||n|
|Definition:||an illness or death from the belief in the power of evilspirits and magic|
|Etymology:||Greek thanato- ‘death’|
I breathe slowly, shallowly.
My pulse rate has slowed.
I count the numbers out loud.
My schedule has changed.
I’m 12 nightmares in.
There is a cat eating my hair.
The tears are salty and I feel the burn of them well up in my eyes.
The little blue pills are gone.
And I know it’s only a few days till I start scraping dirt off the walls.
Or arranging the pens.
Or cleaning the door handles-again.
I’m going back to bed.
The sheets are cold, but it doesn’t bother me.
It’s better than the sunlight.
Find a way out.
Make up an excuse.
Avoid loss of control.
The possession of my mind is rapid.
It takes hold within a few hours and I can’t find stability within.
I see demons and spirits and ghosts all around.
My eyes dart around the room.
I feel my blood pressure spike and drop within seconds.
I can’t see.
My vision becomes blurred because the times are all wrong or he’s not answering my fucking calls or the dog won’t leave me alone for 2 minutes or my bank account has run dry.
I let it wash over me like a tidal wave and run out of oxygen quicker than my brain even sends the signal that I’m drowning in myself.
Days have gone by.
My eyes have darkened.
I dream of serial killers chasing me, of not being able to escape out of buildings, of animals dying.
Wine doesn’t help.
And wine always helps.
I’ve died inside.
The black magic within has occupied my cells.
And no one or nothing has ever been strong enough to pull me out of the ocean.
But sometimes we have to die to see the light.