C. 24/9M TAG (I)

I crumpled abstracts on concretes in toilets where the knock on the door makes my skin jump at the slightest always. Religion says demons reside in the toilets.

That's where they go to when you don't feel like they're belonging, you know?  When reality seems so disconnected and you zone out so far.  Sometimes your tear ducts are treacherous and your voice mail box stutters at acquaintances number lists or maybe you're like me. Maybe you're not like me. I am a crumpled handwritten note down the flush. What are you?

The sinks let go softly of droplets into tapping sound. I know a person anxious about leaning against a wall. I titled my note 'Pointless' and never made it past that. I get anxious when my sleeves get skin off chapped lips and I stick to not falling apart while the doors closed like curtains shielding Sun(s) or blinders or eyes. Anywhich you love.

I am trying to write this "emotion" out chronologically and I am not sick, thank you for asking, I am just miserable if anyone is out here reading this notice. I hope I encrypted this the right way. I pinned this out in the Sun and now I have nowhere to run to so if you find this gibberish I have made it. I have points and I have thorns. What I dont have, are maps.

I desperately want to possess more than just surviving out to see the Sun. God, I want more than to just merely survive. I can't walk around with wobbly legs. God, when did I become this fragile?
No. Not fragile. Just a phase of temporary tearing apart. Seasonal craving for ceiling-staring and crumpled notes. Seasonal things fades away. That's the basic of the art of the loner psyche.

Solution recommended: Sleep, Fatehah. Coffee at 3 in the morning worsen your anxiety and you don't even read labels or what you're supposed to read. If you would, you could have cried out all those coffee, damnit. The lights are out but you answer them when they ask you, "What do you even do?," just because.

I hope April rounds again and I get to bathe in the Sun again and taste what contentness feels like anytime soon. It's been a week but it feels like I lost more than that. I'm so overly dramatic after storming out plethora of different expressions sometimes, I know, but I like it.

This is not about losing something and here,  or there, this or that, is about taking in something that doesn't register forcefully without a second thought. Take your daydreams home, Fatehah. Why do I have to remind myself this.