Everything in me moves a little slower.
Like one of those dreams where you just can't seem to pick up momentum despite being chased.
And when the world and I become so unsynchronized with one another I eventually detach from the life experience altogether, becoming a mere observer. A ghost.
And the implosion begins.
Caving into myself.
Bit by bit.
Insides out. Outsides in.
But then a catalyst, whether two tiny white pills or sprawling out on the cold floor of a dark bathroom, releasing torrents of hot tears or by the grace of Jesus Christ, whatever it might be... something changes and the world slows just a bit. My mind begins to catch up a little. The air becomes breathable again.
My insides return in. My outsides return out.
I begin to orientate back to life; no longer an observer, like coming home after a long day of chaos. I pull the curtains closed, lock the door.
You can call, but I probably won't answer.
Ah, back home.
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