I think in words, not images. But somehow, I can feel myself changing. My once solid words have faded to a soft grey. I can't understand them anymore. They've become a foreign language. And now I tend to see images instead of words, as if my mind was the work of Picasso, painting with no colour and hacking at canvases with razorblades.

These images are not kind to me. In a dreamlike state, I'll wake up and not remember a single one. In my present mind, they are unwelcome, and I can't remember exactly, but there's still the dull ache after they're gone.

Everything around me becomes bigger, blurrier, and suddenly loud. A heightened sense of awareness swallows me and I become inevitably smaller. Fear floods my veins. No, these beasts are not kind.

I feel as if they are sewn into the back of my mind's eye. Thick, dark threads. Stitch by stitch slowly replacing my irises until all that's left are small pools of white.

I've gone blind. You're my world now. Close your eyes with me. Let's escape this nightmare.

Careful darling. I'll write you songs with my pictures and fill your heart with my stitches. I'm afraid I can't protect you anymore. Please don't break.

I love you too much♥