The memory of smoke

The memory of smoke

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Weird thing about abused children and anxiety.

Oh, you know, give me a crisis and I'm good.  Give me time to think too much, and I'll make a mess of it all.  Instinctive, to kill the mouse, in my hand, because it was there, needed doing, can't let it go, then fill a glass with water, drop it in, cover with saucer, let drown, strip bed and remake, take drowned mouse to garbage bin, take melatonin, stay up 20 minutes to allow adrenaline to decrease, return to bed.

To get me really freaked, make me live without a fridge for a week, then bring the fridge, I'll get groceries, stock fridge, then lose my shit.

No comments:

Post a Comment

I really don't want comments here. Deal.

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.