She floats along the corridor like those chinese movie ghosts. She’s a stick of licorice. A praying mantis. A snake perhaps. I don’t know but there is something odd going on there and I’m here because there’s something wrong with me?
For god’s sake eat something woman. And wear a different colour now and then.
A brush stroke in thin air. A mere waft of a human. She doesn’t talk much. Just moves her mane from side to side – slow and rare movements. And at the end, from somewhere within, ‘you’re saaaad’. Looks like she’s going to cry herself.
Not doing me any good spilling to her. I want the panic attacks stopped now, the anxious feeling gone. I want to live not talk about past yuck.
What to do?