Let her lay in a dusted corner,
This is a poem about the state of my mind. I'm not sure how long I have felt this, I do not even know what to even call this, I can only but describe it in my poetic terms. I lived like this for so long that, time is nothing but a fleeting entity, there were times it used to scare me with its feeling of impending doom, but I mostly was afraid of the fact that I didn't feel him the way I should. This is a state of mind I was in, like a heavy blanket that made me dumb, too dumb enough to even do my basic chores, a jail that I dreamt of escaping from. I felt like a marionette, my body did, with broken strings and an even broken master—my mind.
Calling myself a broken marionette was extreme, but poetically it truly reflects the state of mind I was in. It felt like I felt strings of my functions being cut off, and I waddled around like a zombie. The most prominent function I lost was hunger, the ability to feel the pangs and pain, I could go an entire day eating nothing and feel nothing. It felt invincible, to be freed from the shackles of hunger, but do you know what it cost me? my ability to control my food intake. Sometimes I would not eat at all, sometimes I would eat 3 days' worth of food, and a few times I'd force myself to puke because I could stand the gluttony. I lost my ability to feel hunger pangs, but it resulted in me being a prisoner of cravings and unbeatable guilt of being a glutton.
I've hated sleep, I really hated sleep. I do not know if it's perhaps because of my body condition, but I would always be in pain, in chronic pain. My back would scream at me, my legs would scream at me, I would feel my muscles cry and it made me sleep hell. I used to be extremely jealous of vampires, to be able to live without sleeping. You'd call me crazy for hating sleep, but I cannot help it, every pain in my body, it would become ten-fold during my sleep, I wake up fatigued, confused and dazed. Whenever I fell asleep, it would feel like muscles were destroying me, like they'd fight among themselves and then fight me. A sharp pain crawled around my back, like a gnawing and persistent fire burning my legs, electric throbs all the way to my neck. It felt like a punishment for being alive, which is why I always hated sleep. I do not remember the last time I had a comfortable sleep, every day felt like lying on a hell's bed of charcoal and a million needles designed to make me cry. It felt like termites biting away the rotting flesh of my wooden limp-less body.
Some days, I'd also forget basic functions. I'd also forget loving the stuff I once loved. All of the things I loved doing, all of the things I loved in myself, I felt all of them vanish. Whatever I used to be proud of being capable of, I became worthless trying to function in those very things. I've lost the parts of myself, that truly defined me, and now I do not know what I am. I would go days without a bath, and hours without food, time would pass me by as I stay stagnant and unchanging. My hair would get heavy, weighing me down, my body would get damp with sweat, my mind heavy with fog and empty with barely any thoughts, my stomach bigger with hunger as I deprive myself of food, I could only look up, as I cannot stand looking at myself. Even my reflection would taunt me, glazing with tears from my eyes as I broke down. Every strand of my hair would feel like electric wires punishing my skull and hurt my head.
I feel myself rotting, I can feel my body rotting and my mind rotting. I could do nothing, I'm unable to do nothing but watch myself in disgust. Everything around me feels like I'm a rotten wooden puppet, laying in a dusted corned leaning onto the damp wall, my rotten limbs hanging lifeless and I let the termites eat me. I can feel them eating me, I can feel my body being eaten away but I cannot move my arms, I cannot get up and run away from that wretched place, after all I am but a broken marionette who had her strings cut off and abandoned by my master—my mind.
"I have lost every string of function—except the one inside me, the one binding my brain to my heart. So I feel every rotting piece of flesh and bone, every poison-laced thought in my mind—yet I remain powerless to move"
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