Things have seemed off the last few days. Weird. I know that is a laughable understatement. I know how it sounds. But all things considered, it feels weirder than what passes for normal here. It isn't just the drugs. It's more.
The submissions have slowed to a more reasonable number. I'm going through them as fast as I can, despite my exhaustion. Though exhaustion isn't the word for it now. It's hard to explain.
There's a phrase in music called tempo rubato. It means stolen time. I'll admit, I'm not that familiar with written music, but it's my understanding that it refers to changes in tempo. The musician "borrows" time from one measure, then pays it back later.
That's what I have felt like the last few days. That my tempo is off. Yet instead of someone borrowing time, they are stealing it. Perhaps I'm stealing my own time, and I don't know if I can pay it back.
When I first began taking the meds, I did sleep. Now? I go through the motions. I lay down. I close my eyes. I wake up the next day and do it again. But I don't sleep. I don't rest. I'm neither tired nor rested. I linger in between. A limbo of restless fatigue.
I'm not new to this feeling because I was prone to sleep walking when I was younger. And of course, there was that thing a few years ago... with the fire... an entire apartment building. I still don't remember any of it.
I only remember the screaming. The shrieking.
This brings me to the new page. I'm usually overjoyed to discover a new yellow piece. But not today. Today's discovery left me with that feeling again. Tempo rubato. The image is a savage scribbling of a man. His mouth is either wide open by fear, or anger, or perhaps not by choice? Wild hair and wide eyes behind a half mask. What stood out the most was the word FIRE. The character is also holding a flame. Flames are everywhere.
Flames, like that night...
I'll include the piece here:
My immediate impressions:
The character appears highly distressed, possibly in a state of panic or desperation. The exaggerated facial features - wide eyes, an open mouth, and frantic lines - suggest strong emotions such as fear, urgency, or even madness. The word “FIRE!" could symbolize an external crisis (literal fire, danger) or an internal psychological turmoil (obsession, paranoia, or a breakdown). The character seems driven by raw emotion and instinct (fear, panic). The lack of calm or reason suggests they are overwhelmed by impulses. The intense expression and desperate scream could symbolize a repressed trauma resurfacing. Fire might represent a past event linked to destruction, loss, or fear. In psychoanalysis, fire can symbolize both creation and destruction - passion, rage, or transformation. If the character is warning of fire, they may be externalizing internal conflicts onto the world. This figure could represent the mad prophet or harbinger, someone who sees chaos before others do. If they are ignored, it could reflect the "Cassandra complex" - knowing the truth but being dismissed. The chaotic, almost primal nature of the drawing suggests an encounter with the darker, repressed parts of the psyche. The fear they express might not just be about fire but about confronting something deep within. If the fire is real, it represents immediate danger (the real, something that cannot be rationalized). If it's metaphorical, it exists in the Symbolic Order, meaning it could represent an abstract threat - social collapse, personal failure, or existential dread. The character’s scream may reflect a desire to be heard or to control an uncontrollable situation.
Panic Disorder or acute stress reaction
Schizophrenia or Delusional Disorder
Bipolar disorder (mania with psychotic features)
As soon as I laid eyes on the piece, that sickening feeling of familiarity returned. Just like last peice, with the woman. What is the worst part isn't the flames or the familiarity.
I can hear him screaming. I can hear it as clear as my own heart beating in my ears as I write this. I can see it, too. He appears through a door, approaches, screams, and pitches a live flame at me. At me!
Do you understand what I'm saying? These works are no longer just provoking emotions in me. They are dredging up real memories. Both old and new. Recent memories I'm not sure when and where I gained.
I don't want to admit this, but I both anticipate and dread finding the next one. My stomach flutters at the possibilities, then sinks with worry. What is happening to me? Why do these people seem so familiar? Why are the flames returning? What is he trying to tell me?
I've never been more confused.
