Control is an illusion, and the fight against reduction is perpetual.
The tangled mass of vibrant colors shooting out of the head represents the struggle to make sense of the traumatized mind. Surviving each day is challenging enough, but we are then faced with explaining the sensation to others.
The stress, hurt, and fear piles on creating a jagged mountain of distress. Then, all it takes is a feather landing on top or a whisper of breath for it all to come tumbling down. The taste of blood in the back of my throat, a raging migraine, and my heart beating out of my chest – the consequences of holding it all in for so long. Afterward, there is clarity and motivation to carry on.
Today, music is what I need.
How can you sleep at night? We hardly sleep at all, yet I suspect you sleep just fine. Afterall, you never did anything wrong, and these memories we all fight so hard to resolve are an elaborate fabrication. What a lovely, fantasy world you in which you dwell. Beware, for it will all crumble down eventually and when it does, we will be stronger than ever. Relish your memories of when you had complete power and control over us because those times are extinct!