It's like my heartbeat. The sound. That voice. It's just like my pulse. Just as constant. Just as persistent. Just as loud. It thuds in my chest, it pounds in my mind, it stretches throughout my body and presses me.
No. No, I won't. I'm stronger. I can win. I won't succumb. It can pound all it wants. I won't go there. I am not a puppet. The voice doesn't control me. It's a part of me. It screams from within my own body. It battles its will against mine from inside my own skull. The voice is mine. I own it. It is my slave. I can shut it up.
Silence.
There. There. I knew I could win. I knew I was strong. I made it stop thudding. I made it pull out of my skin. I can breathe! I'm so happy. I didn't fall. I didn't succumb. I won. I have peace. My will won.
Now that I won, that I proved I can master my own self.. Perhaps I deserve a reward? I lasted longer than ever before. Surely.. Surely I deserve a break?
I sound convincing. So convincing that I inch closer to my favorite friend and my worst enemy. I move towards it, my heart loud and elated. My whole being feels lighter just knowing that it will fill my veins in mere seconds. I'm going to.. NO! No, no, no! It's a trap. The voice spoke like my own voice. It nearly tricked me like it always does.
I stop in my tracks. I stop and it hurts. I feel it now. The ache. The unquenched desire burning through my flesh. It feels like the lack of air. It feels like heaviness. It feels like gravity. It feels stronger. It feels like crying sand. It feels like swallowing jagged rocks. God, I can't. I need to. I have to.
No, no, no, no. I moan it out loud. I clutch my head and will myself to find the will to fight. It can't win. You can't let it win. You're stronger. It hurts. No, it doesn't. I can't breathe. Yes, you can. Fight. Fight, damn it, fight.
I pull in a lungful of air. I pull it in despite the hands squeezing my lungs. But there's no oxygen. Oh my god. I can't. I can. I'm losing. I'm winning. I'm sweating need. I'm shaking need. It's all I need. The world turns into a void. Nothing can break through the wall of lack pressing in on me. There's no joy. There's no.. There's nothing. I can't feel. I can't feel anything. I am need.
NO! I'll fight. I don't have to. I'm stronger. Please, God, please let me be stronger. I want to be stronger. I want to stop. I have to stop. I'm weeping. I'm shaking. I'm dying.
.. Why? The voice whispers seductively. Why do this to yourself? Is it really so bad? It's wonderful. It feels like a jolt of pure joy. It brings the lack into focus and fills it with shape. This is who you are. This is who you are.
No. I won't.. Even as I say it my legs betray me. Even as I try to drop it, my hands succumbs. The voice drags me under. I fall. I feel. I finally feel. Joy and relief course through me. I am filled with it as I weep my despair. The world turns bright. The pressure recedes from my ears. I can hear. God, I can breathe. There's air. There's air. I wish there wasn't. I wish I was strong. I wish I wasn't a puppet. But I am. I am my own slave. I wish that I was not.
- Empathy series..
No. No, I won't. I'm stronger. I can win. I won't succumb. It can pound all it wants. I won't go there. I am not a puppet. The voice doesn't control me. It's a part of me. It screams from within my own body. It battles its will against mine from inside my own skull. The voice is mine. I own it. It is my slave. I can shut it up.
Silence.
There. There. I knew I could win. I knew I was strong. I made it stop thudding. I made it pull out of my skin. I can breathe! I'm so happy. I didn't fall. I didn't succumb. I won. I have peace. My will won.
Now that I won, that I proved I can master my own self.. Perhaps I deserve a reward? I lasted longer than ever before. Surely.. Surely I deserve a break?
I sound convincing. So convincing that I inch closer to my favorite friend and my worst enemy. I move towards it, my heart loud and elated. My whole being feels lighter just knowing that it will fill my veins in mere seconds. I'm going to.. NO! No, no, no! It's a trap. The voice spoke like my own voice. It nearly tricked me like it always does.
I stop in my tracks. I stop and it hurts. I feel it now. The ache. The unquenched desire burning through my flesh. It feels like the lack of air. It feels like heaviness. It feels like gravity. It feels stronger. It feels like crying sand. It feels like swallowing jagged rocks. God, I can't. I need to. I have to.
No, no, no, no. I moan it out loud. I clutch my head and will myself to find the will to fight. It can't win. You can't let it win. You're stronger. It hurts. No, it doesn't. I can't breathe. Yes, you can. Fight. Fight, damn it, fight.
I pull in a lungful of air. I pull it in despite the hands squeezing my lungs. But there's no oxygen. Oh my god. I can't. I can. I'm losing. I'm winning. I'm sweating need. I'm shaking need. It's all I need. The world turns into a void. Nothing can break through the wall of lack pressing in on me. There's no joy. There's no.. There's nothing. I can't feel. I can't feel anything. I am need.
NO! I'll fight. I don't have to. I'm stronger. Please, God, please let me be stronger. I want to be stronger. I want to stop. I have to stop. I'm weeping. I'm shaking. I'm dying.
.. Why? The voice whispers seductively. Why do this to yourself? Is it really so bad? It's wonderful. It feels like a jolt of pure joy. It brings the lack into focus and fills it with shape. This is who you are. This is who you are.
No. I won't.. Even as I say it my legs betray me. Even as I try to drop it, my hands succumbs. The voice drags me under. I fall. I feel. I finally feel. Joy and relief course through me. I am filled with it as I weep my despair. The world turns bright. The pressure recedes from my ears. I can hear. God, I can breathe. There's air. There's air. I wish there wasn't. I wish I was strong. I wish I wasn't a puppet. But I am. I am my own slave. I wish that I was not.
- Empathy series..
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