Moment of Clarity.

A small description to simulate what it feels like to disassociate from reality. This is my moment of Clarity.

Like a creeping mold, the complete reality of your existence threads its way through your mind. Birth. Death. Birth again. Decay and bloom. A million stitches from a million microscopic wounds you've inflicted on everyone you’ve met with every muscle you've moved and every word you’ve ever spoken.

Let me out.

A lonely soul in a room by itself, weeping. It lives for eighty years and then it’s gone. And then it’s there again.

Let me out.

A reprieve. A good life. Love, Children, a steady career. Recognition from your peers. Here one moment, gone the next. The worms have found their orifices.

Let me out.

Diagnosis. It forgets everything it is. Anger. Rage. Distance. Poverty. The lonely soul is lonely again. Love turns to mockery. It dies. It is reborn. Worse. Lonelier.

Let me out.

Your body is dead, but you live on.

Author's Note

I am fourteen. That's all; do your worst.