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Slipping

A derealization narrative.

By BellePublished 15 days ago 2 min read
4
https://in.pinterest.com/pin/715650197043982714/

I'm slipping.

The world starts crumbling and everything seems to blur. My eyes don't go exactly where I want them to. My mind won't focus. The images in my head are blurred and faded, I want them to stop shaking.

Get a grip.

It feels like I'm Indiana Jones running from the giant rolling boulder. Except the boulder is a thought, or just anxiety in general, and I'm constantly running. Everything is so fast inside, but outwardly I'm still.

The anxiety festers and I'm frustrated. My palms curl into fists and my nails become claws. The urge to thrash is an ache.

It feels like I'm a character in an action movie falling through the barrel of a compromised airplane, or down the tunnel of a cave. I need to reach out, grab onto something, but the whiplash will knock everything out of my head, and every time I stick out my hand, I deflect off of the side.

Ouch.

Is this crazy? Is this what crazy feels like?

Time doesn't exist. The clock in my head is broken. I try to think of one thing, and suddenly I'm shaking. The thoughts in my head are controlled by an earthquake that never stops. I want it to stop.

Missed calls and text messages, but I feel so alone.

Anxiety and frustration fill and drown and sink. My mind zooms out and I watch myself. I'm behind my eyes, my fingers controlled by something internal, me and not me. The way I move is mine and the voice I have is mine, but the way I talk is unfamiliar. The inarticulation is thwarting.

I try to hyperfocus and obsess. It's deteriorating. It's a mess. If I can just try to select one thing, if I can just finish one thing, but it shakes, it pulls. I begin to paint an image in my head, but the canvas tears, brittle and breaking. The paint doesn't even stick, it's lifting.

Come on, climber, get a grip.

I'm slipping.

...

This poem, I think, is unfinished. It might become part of a mini stream of consciousness series. Or it might be something I rewrite all together at a later date. I felt the need to get something out, and I think this was productive, in some way, so anyway, here's this thing. I hope you liked it.

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sad poetrysurreal poetryStream of ConsciousnessProseperformance poetryMental HealthFree VerseFirst Draft
4

About the Creator

Belle

I host unofficial challenges and enjoy writing microfiction and poetry.

ALL EYES ON RAFAH. 35k+ murdered in Palestine. 80k+ injured. 25k orphaned. ~10k missing/under rubble.

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Comments (4)

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  • C. Rommial Butler12 days ago

    Well-wrought! It was appropriate that the piece end on a cliffhanger! However, being that it is a stream of consciousness piece, perhaps you fall into the stream itself and float down to the waterfall that turns out to be a magic rainbow bridge. (I can hear Kermit singing "The Rainbow Connection") I wanted a pot of gold at the end of mine but ended up in Asgard for Ragnarok. Then it all began again! But that's the joy of it!

  • Gosh this was so intense, poignant and extremely relatable! I loved it!

  • angela hepworth15 days ago

    So poignant and teetering on the ledge of collapse - what a powerful piece.

  • Mark Gagnon15 days ago

    Slipping appears to be an understatement for this character. I'm not sure how to respond to this other than it describes a slide into insanity.

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