Mental enemy

Fragments of memories pierce through my best attempts to remain engaged in anything , ANYTHING that will hold my attention.

Scenes that feel like they belong in a violent and dramatic film. The kind that make me change channels quickly.

Parts of me wishing desperately for them to be fiction.

The reality too gruesome and tragic to bear.

I close my eyes tightly, making an ugly contorted scrunched up face .

In the distance I hear birds outside, the rush of a car going faster then it should up this sleepy quiet street.

Distracted thoughts flood in ...... a walk ? Perhaps the sunshine will do me good.

I already know I don’t feel up to facing the world right now but for a second the thought was almost convincing.

Music ! Up loud?

I try, but the lyrics haunt me and in an instant I can’t stand the intense emotions they produce.

I pace the house in an absent kind of way, no purpose to my movement through the rooms. A sense that I forgot to do something but what I have no idea.

Eventually I sink into the couch. It’s cheery patterned fabric glaringly bright and far to upbeat to suit my mood.

Tired of fighting my own mind I take a deep breathe and slowly succumb to that sick melancholy ache that won’t leave me alone and wait for the images to reappear.