Spinning out of control.

They’re watching me. I can smell them in the shadows. I have the lights on yet they are there. There is always shadows. That’s where they hide. The shadows undulate. They writhe with their presence. I can smell them I tell you. They fucking stink like rotten meat.

I know they’re not there yet they are. I can almost see them. It is the smell that gives them away. That and their whispers. I hear them whispering. Plotting. Scheming to get me.

That is all right. Let them come. I am ready for them. They will not take me alive. They will have no opportunity to make me suffer.

I am sane, I think, and yet there they are. And here I am.

No. They are not there. They are not real. I will get a grip. It’s the mania, the psychosis. My mind is not my own. The voices speak gibberish and yet they plot against me. I am their common enemy. They side with the shadows. Together they come for me.

Nope. Not going there. I will turn the light out and relax. There is nothing in the shadows and the voices are all in my head. They are not real. Get a grip. I will. Will you? You fucking wimp. You usually rely on your wife to center you. Where is she now? You are at our mercy. And we have no mercy. No. It is not real. YOU are not real. I am OK. I will ground myself and fuck all of you.

Damn. I am going insane again.

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