Wrote this, talking about those times, your mind flashes scenarios, images, scenes, ones that to someone else may seem normal, fine, not of any particular interest. But in your own Mind’s eye, it provides you the shock, the horror, to stop you from being able to function.
The Mind’s eye and its horrors,
Showing the terrors,
The feeling of dread it brings
The pain, the panic, the doubt, the uncertainty choking the life out of you.
The Mind’s eye shows you horrors, ones you cannot unsee, ones that are unreal, but seem too real.
It cannot be controlled, cannot be stopped, a flash here, and a flash there, pictures of horror, and even with distraction, it’s merely a distraction from continual and perpetual horror.
Must the person behind the horrors of the mind be the horror.
A flash to this, to that, always the horror, always the living nightmare,
The torture, the living trapped in a horror you can’t see past, can’t escape from.
Am I to get used to this torture as a form of living?
Am I to normalise this life?
Time will tell if I can do this.
Time, runs out, like sand in an hourglass.
Then so too the horrors must, when the sand is emptied from the hourglass.