Broken Nails…

My memory is now fuzzy, I cannot tell if the fragments patching themselves up in my head are the actual reality. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I made a mistake.

Me. I. The whole of me. Made a mistake.

Shutting down. I really do not like the idea of me making mistakes because you know what that means? I am not perfect. Now that realisation in itself, Heaven help me.

So my brain is now working itself on overtime, creating figments that were not really there but are quickly turning into my reality. My reality then creates an avalanche of emotion that quickly dictate my adverse reaction to the situation.

My inner voice, walking around in grim determination – What did I just do? Did I really do that? What was I thinking? I need help! This is not me! I do not do things like this. What is wrong with me? Something must be wrong with me? How do I recover from this? Gah! What is wrong with me? We need to fix this – How do we fix this? How do I fix this? Reaching for the hammer & scotch tape – I need to fix this.

Panic & Fear.

I know these two very well. They used to be my good friends – now they pitifully cling to me, attempting to cloud my judgement with their claims.

“BLAST IT!” I yelled, loud enough for my voice to cross between all known dimensions.

“It’s confirmed.” He said with a grim look as his hand reached for his sword.


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