A general fear has rested upon me. It sits there, like a sheet cloaks unused furniture. It hangs on me, yet it is utterly useless. It isn’t telling me anything. I can’t seem to figure out what I’m afraid of. It’s plain old fear with nothing attached to it. Fear in its purest form, I suppose. I lay here in the dark, having abandoned sleep. My mind simply won’t let me. I took a Tylenol PM. Still wide awake. I tried counting. That was one big joke. I tried listening to music to lull me to sleep. Nope. That’s when I began to notice the fear. It crept into my mind like a burglar at night. And now it has taken hold and I can’t seem to release it. It hasn’t overtaken me. Well, not exactly. It has rested upon me, and I can feel its weight. And my body is on edge because of its presence. On edge is perhaps an understatement. But words seem lacking at the moment.
It’s not a feeling that something bad is going to happen. It’s not a fear that something scary is lurking around the corner. It’s a deeper horror. A sick, gut wrenching feeling that makes me wonder what I’m doing in this place, in this world. This world is not for me. Too many horrors.
Too many horrors here.