I don't know what's worse. Being overmedicated or feeling so raw that every sideways look, unusual tone, kind word or gentle rebuke makes me cry. I guess, for now, I'll take the emotions.
My dark mood worries me. There's this voice that speaks to me and tries to tell me things. I try to block it out. Sometimes I even cover my ears and hum, but it's still in my head. There's no running from it.
You probably don't know this, but madness will push you anywhere it wants. It never tells you where you're going or why. It tells you it doesn't matter. It persuades you. It dangles something in front of you, shimmering like a water patch on the road up ahead.
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