I spent so many years locked inside, nary a thought verbalized that wasn't of imminent importance. I got the help I needed and I can see in my reflections the absurdity of eras past, but I feel their shadow on the my progressing future.
My breaths are shallow.
My thoughts won't cease.
I question the help I sought because if the end result was correct then I wouldn't have to deal with these invisible eyes and make-believe worlds that twist in and out of reality, only leaving their impression of false histories and blocked memories.
It's a struggle to keep focus when that which is at the back of your mind is the back of your life.
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