Free Flow 23: Expert from a novel i’ll never write (9)

The image is blurred. I can’t see clearly even if I wanted to, everything is a haze and lost in the fog that is my current state of mind.

I could keep talking, I could sit here and pretend everything is okay, but in the back of my mind someone else is home.


I have no idea what we’re discussing in class, quantum physics or the new hit single, everything just sounds like white noise. I can’t focus. I doodle on the paper, harsh lines and tornadoes of pen.

Solid constructs don’t exist.

My brain isn’t working.

The more I doodle the tighter my shoulders feel, the lower I’m being pulled down. Like an unidentifiable weight is being placed on my shoulders little by little, until eventually I’ll collapse beneath the pressure.

I raise my hand, ask for a hall pass. I’ll wonder the halls and hope for clarity.

I arrive at a bathroom mirror. Sunken, tired eyes stare back.

Am I strong or am I weak?

My chest tightens, a lump starts to form in my throat, and it would be so simple just to cry. To let the tears wash out whoever is crawling inside my brain, but nothing comes out.

I can never cry when I need it the most.(214 words)


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