The dichotomy between the desires of my body and the desires of my mind is starting to break me.
I can feel my grip weakening.
I can feel the energy accumulate.
I can feel it race around inside of myself, leaving small cracks in my mind as it ricochets from one thought to the next.
And through these cracks like a pressurized vapor, the energy rushes out of me.
I can feel it slip through in my speech.
That hopelessly ruined sentence.
That misplaced word.
That unprovoked lapse into verbal incompetence.
I can feel it slip through in my movements.
That loss of dexterity.
That shaky uncertainty.
That unrelenting restlessness.
I can feel it slip through.
I am losing control.
I need to get out of here.
Out of this place.
I need to get out of myself for a while.
I need time to figure out why this is getting worse.
I need help.
And maybe not even that.
Someone to reach out and touch me from time to time.
Someone to remind me that I am real.
For as long as I can remember, I have been doing this alone.
I have chosen not to impose it upon others against their will.
I have tried to help maintain the peace and tranquility of the happy lives around me.
I have tried not to upset the balance.
I have largely kept this to myself.
And I have come a long way.
It no longer feels dangerous.
It does not frighten me as it did when I was a child.
But I don't know how much longer I can contain these screams.