It's raining. It's raining hard.
All you can hear is the constant drumming.
The walls slowly moving in,
Your breath shorting.
Try look around,
your vision has gone bullury and fuzzy.
Your heart beats so fast,
it could implode at any moment.
You gasp for breath now.
Pain allover, numbness.
It hurts, its been there so long now.
Almost forgotten.
A nagging twitches at you, almost unbreable.
You have to get out.
be free, fly.
cold, dark, lonely.
Your bodies there,
but theres no occupient inside.
In truth, you like the pain. You like it because you believe you deserve it, and the fact that you’re putting yourself through pain means you are doing what you, by all rights, ought to do. You’re doing something right. Your ability to withstand pain is your claim to fame. It is ascetic, holy. It is self-control.
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