Tick tock, tick tock, we have to fix the pseudo clock.
The black mucus coats every surface like it crawled its way out of the esophagus of Satan himself to claim the space as its own. It breathes softly with each breath of my own, in and out, pulsating with each convulsion of my heart.
The spiderweb of sticky black ink seems to spread in blotches and slings, covering everything, suffocating the room, holding it in place with a few whispered hushes. Parts of it look like hands, the fingers outstretched, clinging on tightly and holding things down. It spreads across the walls and floor like inky vines, with the sharp thorns holding it firmly in place. It falls from the ceiling, raindrops of obsidian peppering the floor with bullet holes.
Every surface is coated.
Tock tick, tock tick, we need to make this quick.
All around, grey-blue filing cabinets find themselves prisoner to the breathing black fingers, which encase them and strangle them. The top drawer of the nearest hangs open, files pulled out and torn apart, also smothered in the inky mucus. It digs its talons into the typed-out pages, it smothers the words until none are left and the file cannot be touched.
The whole room shakes and pulses with each spike of my own heart rate. Sensing weakness, the blackness closes in, crawling along the floors and sliming over files to get to me. My breathing quickens, my fingers clench, and the whole room seems to shudder a laugh at my expense.
I'm only standing on the threshold, my little toes curling away from the mucus inside the room, but I might as well be standing inside a cocoon of the filth with it forcing its way into my airways. There is no escape.
I'm not in control.
Tick tock, tick tock, perhaps its time to turn the lock.
A single hand takes mine and in a second the fierce grip the blackness has on me starts to fade. Wordlessly, the hand pulls me into the room, and as my feet cross over, I feel the coldness of the gently pulsating mucus in every part of my body. My brain seizes up and suddenly all my mind can think about it the overwhelming amount of inky sinew and flesh that's now close enough to reach out and wrap its greedy claws around me.
Words calm me. I don't know what they are, and I'm not even sure I hear them, but they're there. Their presence is enough to give me strength. My heart rate calms again and I watch with tears on my face as the dark fingers slowly edge away from me.
With a burst of strength, lent to me by the hand holding my own, I manage to reach out to the nearest filing cabinet and open a drawer. Inside, the folders are tainted and worn, as though they had spent years at the bottom of a bog. Not wanting to linger so close to the reaching fingertips, I take the first folder my own hand makes contact with.
A single word is scrawled on the front of the file, in my own tangible but messy writing. The black permanent marker simply says, "GUILT". I look up to see the mucus slowly retreating back off the filing cabinet, not even leaving an inky fingerprint as proof that it had been there. My hands tingling with a nervous energy, I slowly open the folder.
I open my eyes to the real world.
Tock tick, tock tick, why do I feel so sick?
The ceiling is plain white, and the walls, too. The room is small and inexpensive, the furniture closely packed to maximise space usage. There are none of the worn-down, blue/grey filing cabinets that filed the previous room. There is no suffocating black mucus staring me down with hungry laughter.
There's another person though. Breathing, two sets of breathing. My own and another's. A settled, steady rhythm on each. No panicking. No terror. No fearful black ink. Just two sets of breathing, two calmed heart beats, two calm and settled bodies. Nothing ethereal about this person, unlike the hand that had guided me into the room of my nightmares. They were real. They were flesh and blood and skin and organs and thoughts and feelings.
Still, the weight of the folder that I had picked up weighs on me as though it's a slab of concrete, resting on my chest. Making it hard to breath. Making it hard to think straight. That word echoes around my head... guilty, guilty, guilty, over and over and over until it tries to escape my body and crawls up my throat and pulls my jaws open to speak.
The black ink suddenly presses down on me as though it were waiting in the shadows. A tight band wraps itself around my chest, suppressing my heart beat and crushing the air from my lungs. One of the grasping, suffocating hands presses down hard on my mouth, its talons digging into my face, shushing me, hushing me until I can feel myself being lulled by the sense of security that it's offering me.
I can hear the breathing to my side, and I know that none of it is real. The tight band constricting my breathing, the hand holding my face down, the soft lullaby that the shadows are whispering to me... none of them are real. I can fight them off, I can fight them back. I already have once, I can and will do it again. I can, I can, I can.
I open my mouth and the ink recedes once more, allowing me to say my piece, and I whisper out the words that built up in my throat, that it tried to steal from me. With lips that are far too numb to be my own, and a voice far too croaky to come from my voice box, I say, "Promises are important, right?"
Tick tock, tick tock, this isn't where it will stop.
I haven’t been feeling like myself this week. I have been so touchy/moody and really unmotivated and sluggish. I found out part of the reason why this morning 😅 but, the crazy #winterweather hasn’t been helping either. 😩 • With that being said, it’s easy to fall into the “Guilt Trap” and talk yourself out of moving forward. • So I’m working on being a little bit kinder to myself and putting less demands on myself by only focusing on getting one important thing everyday. It has been quite helpful. • • What do you do when you don’t feel like yourself? P.S Dressing colorful clothing and prayer uplifts my spirit. • • • • • #notfeelinglikemyself #downdays #gloomydays #thriftedfashion #allpinkoutfit #springfashiontrends2022 #springcolorpalette #springcolortrends2022 #blackfashionista #blackfashionbloggers #zambianbloggers #carouselinstagram #corsicanatx (at Down Town Corsicana) https://www.instagram.com/p/CaX3EVXu1S0/?utm_medium=tumblr
I did better than yesterday. But I only worked as long as I was working with people. When I'm not with people I simply can't work. (person) found people to work with him on anything, from homework to studying to every (org) work. I wish I could do the same for myself. It's the only way to get myself to working 12 hours a day. Can't do it by myself. If I could do it by myself, I would really win at life. (person) didn't make it to Stanford remember? I really do not have a solution. I am trying to think of one. Perhaps try controlling impulses. Sleeping for as long as 5pm, you give in to temptation. Recognize that it's a temptation. Then do not give into it.
Saying No is easy. Quiting is easy. Quit giving into temptation. It starts with quitting what harms. The good stuff comes after that.
Some FYP work with the girls. Vanilla XNLI working. Head-start with icsl on recadam
You can have a new thing everyday scheme. Do some novel thing everyday. Perhaps it will satisfy your novel-seeking behavior.
Sometimes our days begin in an awesome way until something trips us up and puts us in a funk, a down mood, so to speak. I had just that type of morning. In the midst of accounting and invoices I found myself feeling sad. I know what caused it but more importantly, I had to figure out why. I wasn’t going to talk about it until I figured out why a certain incident caused me to feel so badly. And…
Yesterday was not a great day. I spent a lot of it very down, stressed and teary. I was irritable with my family and all I really want is to speak to my Mum. I'm hoping today won't be that bad. #reality #reallife #downdays #itsokaytonotbeokay #bereavement #loss #grief #sadtimes #upsanddowns https://www.instagram.com/p/CArwzJwJsL9/?igshid=3qzavoo06uax
Saturday was a bit of a rubbish day! Sleep patterns all over the place. Feeling fatigued and missing regular exercise as well as interactions with other humans! A week of video conferencing can also prove too much after a while. What I have to say to you is it’s ok to have crap days! It’s ok to feel a little low. Most of us have been in lockdown for over 4 weeks now. However, don’t lose focus on the future! IT’S GOING TO BE OK! On Monday I am hosting a “Monday motivation group session” at 9.00am EDT. 2.00pm BST. Come join us. Let’s concentrate on future possibilities. Keep safe and well friends. #lifecoach #lifecoaching #downdays #blackdogday #lifecoachingtips (at Peter Gourri Coaching) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_b6w-Yju55/?igshid=1vfvaf1fbnzn
