Maybe if I hold my breath, everything will stand still. The world will stop it's spinning flurry of winding crashes like toy cars and picture frames. Maybe if everything stops moving, I can finally catch my breath and heal.

Being in this disease is deadly. I feel trapped and controlled, manipulated by my own mind, as if I am no longer in the pilot's seat and I'm in autopilot going through these trances of start and finish. Racing thoughts, racing body. As if all I do is catch up, when all I want to do is rest. Let me rest here, lie her. Intention is the darkness tainting my vision and my blood, no longer the carnival horse pounding through my veins. Bless me, bless me.