McGuire Pain. All you could think or feel, hear or see, was pure agony. The heat was unbearable, almost as if it were over 400 degrees of pure fire being pressed onto your already bubbling skin. The smell of burning hair and formaldehyde. The feeling of unpleasantly dry cracked lips accompanied by daily nausea. This constant feeling is the equivalent to hearing nails on a chalkboard, but only if your body was the chalkboard and the nails were pins and needles being scraped against your stomach and dragging through the cartilage near your ears. The feeling of panic as you close your eyes, you don’t want to blink, because if you blink, what could happen? Although, it doesn’t matter if your eyes are opened or closed, as you feel just as blind to what is happening when your eyes are open. Half of the pain comes with not knowing what is going to happen next. Anticipating and always thinking that the worst is yet to come. Constantly being poked and prodded by foreign objects, cutting you open and
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At first, you think there is a way out, you fight these beings that are holding you back and even though you don’t succeed, you try again. Even though you don’t know where you are, or how you will get out, you put yourself in constant denial that one day, you will escape. you have been counting the days which have slowly and painfully become weeks, then months, then years.
You wonder if time is even real where you are. You wonder if time was even real when you were home. “Are we all in a simulation, is this all a game?.. Are we all just frequencies living in separate dimensions like channels on a TV?” You begin to crack, questioning every routine, every pattern, whether it is simple or complex. You have lost that spark in your eye. You’ve finally lost that hope that you will ever escape what seems to be
At first, you think there is a way out, you fight these beings that are holding you back and even though you don’t succeed, you try again. Even though you don’t know where you are, or how you will get out, you put yourself in constant denial that one day, you will escape. you have been counting the days which have slowly and painfully become weeks, then months, then years.
You wonder if time is even real where you are. You wonder if time was even real when you were home. “Are we all in a simulation, is this all a game?.. Are we all just frequencies living in separate dimensions like channels on a TV?” You begin to crack, questioning every routine, every pattern, whether it is simple or complex. You have lost that spark in your eye. You’ve finally lost that hope that you will ever escape what seems to be