I hit bottom yesterday, hard. Trudged around picking splinters from my fingers and feet. Laid down in the night and didn’t sleep. Brain on super-power high-speed. Not connecting to the cloud, but to bad dreams. In the pre-dawn I hear cries from other rooms. Sitting up, I feel gingerly around the edges of my room. Don’t want to push or move too quick in fear of popping the blister over my brain. My body buzzes with unbounded energy.
I gather courage and sit up. Collect my notes. On a black screen, the buzzing becomes a source of light in the pre-dawn cracks around my door. I write worries into images. As light breaks, I hear others stir. I come out of myself, linger in the center room, and wait as friends and lovers slowly gather shadows at my feet.
We pass words but do not touch. We are all still shivering scared. The night air was filled with the shudders of dark spirits, the dead spirits, the spirits of those who past in agony and suffering. In tendrils of mist, we cling to our chests and gather sighs.
The day will fade our pain, and in the warmth of the glowing day, we will see it was only a sense of doom we had. A premonition. A dream.
If you escaped free from the torrent, consider yourself lucky. I woke, stirred, inadvertently tapped in, and got fucked. My spirit’s still sore from the stretch.
Some days, that’s just how intuition is. But all things considered, it’s worth the weight. A cost I’ll always pay for what truth lies on the flip side.