losing it

Okay, as I type this, I feel as though an army of little Justins are screaming and pounding against the insides of my flesh, trying to claw their way out, their voices scream out in pure agony, engulfing, deafening yet still faint and under the surface, it’s like thunder in the distance, drawing closer. It's like my body wants me to grab my head screaming and run out of the room.

This has happened to me before.

With a certain amount of consistency actually, when I was younger and about to fall asleep. Suddenly, it would feel as though the pillow I was laying my head on turned to crepe paper, each move creating noises and feelings which triggered a queer feeling up and down my spine, soon the blanket would take on the same texture and the feel of my skin against it made me want to leap out of the bed, it was like nails across a chalk board.

Every time it happened, I would replay the same thing in my head; I would imagine I was a small ship afloat a calm moonlit sea, then the waves would crash and become tortured distorted versions of their former self - and as if seeing this on film - the celluloid would become scratched and crumpled, getting so bad you could barely distinguish the original scene. Then it all got... better. Slowly, and the feeling then became almost beautiful, calming, I would run my finger across the pillow and it was as if I was now in control of the film, creating a wake in my finger's path - a controlled version of the chaos that consumed me before.

It's the same feeling right now, except the trigger now eludes me, no pillow cases or blankets in sight, no explanation, only the worse I've ever felt this before.

Justin | 10:28 AM