Dissociation  crack stories
  •   1 comment

writercat Life is beautiful, life is sad
Autoplay OFF   •   6 months ago
It started with a movie.


It started with a movie.

Horror and suspense are subjects I enjoy,

And it's just a movie, right?

So I sat down and rocked back and forth,

Nearly shaking with anxiety over something fake.


It's a buzz in my pocket.

The screen shows me something I don't want to see,

And worse yet, the time does the same.

Finally, it's the car ride home in the dark.

Songs I don't know nor understand screech over the sounds in my head,

Taking over my thoughts.

That was all I needed to cr ack.

Then, I'm home, but I'm not at the same time.

Rush to the bathroom, look in the mirror, try to remember who I am.

Repeating simple truths to myself as I taught myself to do.

Over and over again, saying my name, and yet the face in the mirror doesn't quite match up.

So I escape the bathroom and go into my room,

But it's unfamiliar to me now.

So I count senses, look at what I can see, try to ground myself,

But it's far too late.

So, I sit down and curl up on my bed, rocking back and forth.

It's too late.

I already crac ked.

I look around a room that seems foreign to me.

The desk is too small,

The shelf isn't long enough.

The floor looks like it's rising up and trying to attack me;

My slippers are lightyears away from me.

Everything is distorted,

And all I can think is,

"What's happening to me?"

Eventually, it goes away,

And the crack seals itself.

But the fear of it never goes away,

Knowing that I will crack again somed ay.

Author's Note

I realize that this is less of a poem and more of a story, so forgive me for that. I just felt the need to share this experience. Thanks for reading!- Kitten

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