Second attempts

This is my first real try at writing. A lot of this has been in my head for a while but as part of a larger second attempt i thought i would try something new, actually writing them down. Read them if you like, or don't, i won't mind either way.

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It started off as an ache

Creeping up on me and tugging.

First it infected my mind,

then my muscles,

then my lungs.

It sounds like a cliché because it was,

I just didnt realise it.

 

I found out years later they were symptoms.

The feeling of every atom in my body straining, fighting to escape.

The fog in my head, making people and places, good times and adventures dull and faded, like looking at the images of a life of a person long gone.

The way it built inside me, rising and thickening until there was no room left for air and the panic ambushed my splintering mind.

Symptoms of something i could not accept, but all anyone else could see.

 

Just an illness.

To be treated and conditioned away.

That's what they told me, those peering in through the murk.

Their shining eyes and sharp whispers piercing through the fog,

They can't understand why it didn't work.

 

What they didn't realise is that by now it's too late, it has been for a while.

It is done consuming me now, I have carried it for so long the weight of it is part of me.

The fog sits in cracks i cannot clear, it is ingrained into my whole identity.

 

I despise it

but without it,

I am scared the world would blind me.

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