These days, almost all the time, I stay on the edge. Folding-unfolding the rough edges that frequently leave my thumb bleeding red, I get startled very easily, my heart always on the lookout to pick the broken pieces of something that might fall apart suddenly. My eyes, moving sideways in quick succession, just to ensure everything is in order, creep up even at the slightest flutter. And my cheeks fluster red, the minute I finally come across something that's been shredded to bits, one that my gut had unerringly been right about.
But what do I do in instances like these, when I see my anchor blow away with the wind, strong enough to be called a storm. These aren't storms, by the way, they can never compete with what's been going on within my system - a whirlwind of emotions, a cyclone of numbness, spiralling my leftover consciousness into abyss and a high tide, enough to drown me into deep waters until another day ushers me back to life.
If I were to analyze these occurrences, I'd conclude that I'm probably not in the best states of my mind. The numbness is disconcerting, and it wouldn't be a lie to say that more often than not I'm surprised by how swiftly pitch-black darkness envelopes me in its arms, caressing the sides of my cheeks as if I were a baby in the cradle.
I'm accustomed to this new home, safe in ways no one can imagine. So, in case you'd like to rescue me, I would advise you to stay away. I'm the ocean that has the audacity to gulp down your existence. I'm the sea, wide and dangerous, camouflaging secrets that can tear you apart, disintegrating the very pieces that claim to care for me.
I'm a witch, bold and gregarious, yet reserved in places you'd find odd. I can snip your ear off or chop off a finger for lying, simultaneously asking you to knit a sweater of lies for myself. I'm threateningly sweet and maliciously soft-hearted.
And if you still would like to know why I let those storms take the better of me, I think that's what keeps me sane for the normal public. It's like I want myself to be pinched into consciousness else I'd stumble into the crevices of my heart, the vices of which are far from known.
So, would you still like to save me?
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