Prisoner

Do you know what captivity feels like?

There's a line between place and part - which is to say they're two different constructs. To me, it's a very distinct line. But I wonder if it actually is?

I've been wallowing in extreme self-doubt recently. It's been quite some time now. I've discovered that people around me see, hear and feel the world very differently - it's a stark contrast, almost. My perspective appears to be illusory to me.

Between my mental health issues and my real-life problems, I cannot tell which is which anymore. My mental issues create real-life problems and my problems feed my mental instability. It's a vicious self-feeding loop.

Sometimes I sit myself down to understand the mechanics behind my current state of affairs. I think about a wounded man, with spears sticking into him - all of him. The small spaces of bloody flesh left in between the spearheads have shards of glass sticking into them. Not a single un-pierced inch left. You see him there, lying in the pool of his own blood. How do you help him? How do you touch him? Without pushing those blades further inside him.

May be you just let him lie there, and die slowly, and painfully. May be you just put him out.

I don't know. I am not the bystander.