That’s how it all starts. It just has to run its course. The static in your mind. The cobwebs that bind all that was in your dreams, all that ever was, and all that is now. It’s a lonely feeling to look at yourself in the mirror and not recognize the reflection. It’s excruciating to scream silently out in pain, holding your brain tightly as if it may burst with one more intrusive thought. You need help and scream it, but nothing comes out. It’s like being trapped in another dimension, as if a ghost. No one knows or notices the hell brewing in every fiber of your being. Everyone just casually walks by, as you cry out in pain. The further you drift away, the harder it is for people to understand what you’re saying.

It’s just static, confusion…chaos. It’s painful, like knives, hammers and vices all trembling away at once. It’s a volcano ready to blow its lid. It’s a gigantic tsunami frozen in the recesses of your mind, waiting for release. You’ll do anything to steady the overbearing weight of your head. Anything to hold onto the fantasies and delusion, but you’ll also do anything to shake it off and leave it all behind. Just one more thought to have it all come crumbling down and you know you will be whisked away into a world that destroyed your life once before. Here it is again, at your door, once more.

By the time the static clings, it’s too late. She’s already gone.

I suppose it comes down to this: it’s like a tug of war between reality and delusion. To be stuck in between, not knowing which way to jump, is like balancing on a razor thin edge. You can only deal with the pain for so long. Sooner or later, you have to jump. And that fantasy is far more intriguing and enticing than this reality, no?

And she jumps into what seems to be less painful in the now…an impulsive decision. She’s gone. Beneath the static.

Only time will tell when she returns.

To an outsider, it must be hell.

Oh, but to her … the stories she will tell.

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