Thirst

I am fully aware of my insanity. Inability to look a person in the eye for more than a second because my brain is heating up and is going to explode if I hold contact for longer. Skin set on fire and attacked from all sides by invisible thousand samurai swords. That feeling is so terrifying, not being able to escape my own skin. This all may be the twisty workings of acute hypochondria, but to me they are real. I cannot find words, simple words, they slip out of my mind and I am holding a sharp object that people are calling a fork and I cannot force my mouth to form the word let alone find it in the lexicon. I feel crazy. I know I sound crazy when I explain this to someone who cannot feel it. You ask, "Are you ok?" And I have no idea how to let that question pass by and move on because, no I am not okay, but there is nothing anyone can do and so I know my face reflects strange emotions chasing each other across the lines and you think I am laughing it off but inside I'm screaming, curdling the cells in my brain.

And I cannot let anyone love me. I cannot let anyone close enough to see these weaknesses. I know my crazy voids any true trusting relations to grow. I am Tantalus, I want it so badly but when I reach for it it sinks slowly away and only when I draw back in sorrow and defeat does it rise greedily to slake itself on my abandoned emotions.