Closed

[brightrosefox]

This is what it feels like: The whole upper layer of the earth, and maybe the collective psyche of humanity, has been peeled away, leaving an open, sore, raw wound that's sluggishly starting to bleed. The atmosphere itches and burns and cries with pain and it's too large to cover; no ointment or bandages to soothe. There's something huge and dark pressing in, trying to suffocate. I could feel it this morning when I woke up struggling to breathe. My dreams had been severe. I can smell a storm coming--not a physical one, but a storm nonetheless. I can feel so much static fear; it smells like ozone and anxiety. My heart is pounding steadily but forcefully, like an animal throwing itself against a locked door, wondering if it needs to be on the other side to help and heal and protect. I feel like the sun hasn't risen in days, metaphorically. It makes me think back to Emilie's dreams, the inevitable storm that she also has been predicting in her DJ.
Strange, too: So much seems to correlate with where my book is headed. Maybe I'm reflecting what my subconscious is warning.

(By the way, if anyone thinks this sounds annoyingly melodramatic and I need to get a life and cheer up and quit whining, I demurely raise my middle finger to you. I can write whatever I damn well please. By the time I go home, I may bloody well be feeling much better. This is my catharsis. Thank you.)